


Shell Games

by Josey (cestus), junko



Series: The Tea Conspiracy [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Bankai, M/M, Other, Politics, Shinigami/Zanpakutou Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 61,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: With the children safely farmed out around Rukongai, Jūshirō and Shunsui have returned to their duties in Seireitei, but not everything goes as planned.
Relationships: Kyouraku Shunsui/Ukitake Juushirou
Series: The Tea Conspiracy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592041
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. The Right Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This story runs concurrent with [Creating a Monster.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119868/chapters/52795999) Though the timelines don't strictly mesh, they should be considered companion pieces as events in one are referenced in the other and subsequent stories will draw together threads from both.

"What you are asking for is no longer possible."

Plucking a wayward flower petal from his bowl of sake, Shunsui looked up at the zanpakutō spirit sitting across from him. The blanket between them was littered with the hanafuda cards he'd used to win even the right to ask his question. A hundred hands later and that was not the answer he'd been expecting.

"No longer?" he asked carefully, flicking the petal away. 

Katen Kyōkotsu inclined her head towards the far end of the garden, where a tangled mass of white bone and scarlet flowers marked the place Shinken Hakkyōken lay hidden, safe from Central 46's prying eyes. 

Rage rose in Shunsui's chest at the memory of his sister-in-law's murder and, in response, the shadows seethed into motion, reaching out with midnight fingers across grassy banks and flower beds. 

Unlike those in the real world, these shadows moved independent of any light or structure to cast them, for Shunsui's garden had no boundary wall, only a border of ever deepening darkness that always made Shunsui's skin creep when he stared at it for too long. It made him feel like he was being watched. 

He shuddered and looked away.

Was it possible that something did lurk within those shadows? 

With a sigh, he resigned himself to investigating. If Katen Kyōkotsu was telling the truth, it wasn't like he was going to have much else to do. Like say, bankai.

Jūshirō was going to be disappointed. He'd envisaged them both being captains, Shunsui knew, each working whatever angle he could find to make their dreams for change come true.

Perhaps Shunsui could be his lieutenant instead. 

A sharp gust of wind whipped the hat from his head. Shunsui grabbed for it before it could be sent tumbling across the grass and glared at his zanpakutō spirit. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"You were getting maudlin," Katen Kyōkotsu replied, taking a dainty sip from her bowl. "And giving up far too soon, as usual."

Shunsui grimaced as the barb hit home. It was a fact that he tended to take the easy route when confronted with a problem, but he didn't see how taking her word at face value was the same as giving up. 

"You're the one who said bankai wasn't possible any more," he protested, replacing his hat and screwing it as tightly to his head as it would go. "What else am I supposed to do?"

She levelled a look at him over the top of her sake bowl. "You could start by asking why."

Oh. He hadn't thought of that. 

He tried it.

The answer she gave was yet another thing he'd not been expecting, and he left that place with his mind in a whirl. 

_Shinjū_ \- a suicide pact. Hideously dangerous, not only to the enemy but to the wielder as well. Of course he couldn't involve the Divine Sword in something like that. At least, not without protection. 

Luckily he knew just the person to speak to when it came to wanting to know about shields.

#

It was going on a week before he managed to touch base with Jūshirō. They met up in an izakaya halfway between the 5th and Central. Shunsui arrived first and so was relaxing in the corner, their drinks and snacks already on the table by the time Jūshirō swept in just ahead of what looked to be some wild weather.

"Goodness me," he said, removing his dripping cloak and handing it off with a grateful nod to a serving boy to take somewhere to dry. "That's working up to be quite the night." As he sat, Shunsui caught the scent of ozone lingering around him, as though he was the source of the storm not the sky.

"Wet is it?" he asked brightly.

Jūshirō gave him a slightly jaundiced look across the table and continued gathering wet strands of hair back into his hair-tie. "I see you managed to avoid the worst, as usual."

Shunsui gave him a lazy grin and reached out to pour him a bowl of sake. Steam rose from the surface of the clear liquid. "I will admit to swapping a training session for document delivery. It's hardly my fault the work day ended before I could get back."

Jūshirō's tut of disapproval was well and truly ruined by his amused smile. "I have no idea why Captain Ayaoni lets you get away with such behaviour," he said.

"Must be my rakish good looks," Shunsui tossed back, putting the sake jug down close enough to Jūshirō's hand that he should take the hint. Sure enough Shunsui's bowl was soon refilled and he picked it up, leaning back against the wooden backrest. 

Around them, the usual early evening crowd had been swelled by the weather, and the area around the bar was jammed with patrons, none of whom were taking an interest in them. Even so, Shunsui lowered his voice before he ventured, "I have something I need to speak to you about."

Jūshirō's brows rose and he glanced back over his shoulder, no doubt undertaking the same security sweep of the bar that Shunsui had just completed. "Do you want to talk here?"

Shunsui wobbled his hand from side to side. "It's probably as safe as anywhere. Hiding in plain sight and all that."

"You should join the eighth, talking like that," Jūshirō replied, before scrunching his nose. "On second thoughts, perhaps not. They're a little too clever at ferreting out secrets." 

"And I'm hardly ninja material," Shunsui continued, "Though it is that particular matter that I want to speak to you about. I-"

Before he could get any further, Jūshirō held up a quelling hand. "Let me," he said, and muttered a kidō Shunsui didn't recognise. The sound levels around them surged very slightly before settling back in a way that made Shunsui frown. Whereas before he'd been able to catch the odd word or two of conversations around them, now they all sounded garbled. 

He raised a questioning brow at Jūshirō, who shrugged and flushed slightly. "Just a little something I learned from the captain. It's a privacy screen."

Useful. And something Ayaoni-taichō probably would have taught Shunsui if the fifth wasn't so damnably focused on combat kidō. The restrictions of his current position chafed at him and added an extra bite to his next words. "What do you know about shields?"

Jūshirō looked at him, surprised. "Not much more than you, I should imagine. Though I suppose I might know a few extra barrier spells these days."

"No, not kidō." Shunsui gestured the idea away sharply. "Shields. Your shikai release talks about them. All that 'waters rising to become my shield' and such, how does that work exactly?"

Every scrap of colour drained from Jūshirō's face at the question, enough for Shunsui to rerun the words in his head. Perhaps it had been a little unsubtle. For all their closeness, even they didn't discuss the workings of their inner worlds with each other. Some things were too intimate even for lovers. 

He sighed and tried again, this time adding a little context. Jūshirō, tolerant soul that he was, listened carefully as Shunsui explained the broad outlines of what the problem seemed to be, interjecting the occasional question that managed to narrow the problem down without intruding on the specifics of such a taboo subject. 

Finally, when Shunsui was done, Jūshirō sat back and, after a moment of silence, said, "I'm really not sure I can help you."

Slack-jawed, Shunsui stared at him for a long second. Never, in all their years together, had Jūshirō ever refused to help. Though this wasn't a refusal as such, was it. "Can't, or won't?" Shunsui asked, trying to keep the snap from his voice. He'd thought he'd made it clear that this was both their futures at stake, if Jūshirō's plans truly relied on them both making captain.

"Can't," Jūshirō reiterated, frowning, and honestly given the distress in his voice and the way he clasped his hands together on the tabletop, Shunsui had no choice but to believe him. "You see, my shield is inbuilt. Inside me," --he paused, looking supremely uncomfortable before pressing on-- "I have two spirits. One is Mimihagi, or so it says, but for as long as I can remember, there's always been two: a shield and a blade."

Shunsui's heart sank. It hadn't occurred to him that Jūshirō's stowaway might be changing his relationship with his zanpakutō, though in retrospect he probably should have. It was part of the Soul King, after all, and hideously powerful. Which was why Ukitake wanted rid of it, before it consumed him entirely. 

None of which helped him with his problem at all, unless he somehow managed to hijack a passing godlet or rip his own soul in half to make two of himself. Damn.

Downing his sake in one gulp, Shunsui thumped the bowl down on the table and stared at it morosely. When his sister-in-law had come to him, he hadn't thought twice before agreeing to hide Shinken Hakkyōken. Now he was… not regretting it exactly, because he could never regret helping someone he loved, but maybe wondering if he should have thought it over in a little more detail before he selected that specific hiding place. 

If Katen Kyōkotsu had given him even the slightest hint… but she hadn't.

And now it was too late. No solution meant no bankai, which meant no promotion. Ever. Unless he gave up the sword, which he swore he would never do.

A hand closed over his where it was fisted on the table top. Shunsui looked up to find Jūshirō regarding him with aching amounts of understanding. "We'll find a way. There has to be one, it just needs a little time and effort to uncover it." Long fingers, warm where they covered Shunsui's own, tightened. "And in the meantime, I will take the vanguard."

#

Jūshirō closed the door behind him, pressed his back against it and tried not to cough. It wasn't easy. His chest ached from the stress of the evening and the cold wind that had practically blown him back to his quarters. But worse than both of those was the promise he'd made to Shunsui. The promise he couldn't possibly hope to keep.

When he'd walked into the izakaya this evening, he'd planned on telling all, only for his lover to get there first, and then how could he possibly add to Shunsui's pain by confessing that for him too, bankai was out of reach. It would have destroyed him to hear that, and he'd had so much pain recently, too much of it at Jūshirō's instigation; the news of the Ise woman's execution, which should have been handled better; Jūshirō's insistence that they claim all the children from the Maggot's Nest; the confrontation with Genryusai-sensei; all of them were his fault one way or another. 

And now this. No, he could no more have told the truth than he could have drawn his blade and run his lover through.

Pushing off the door, one hand still pressed to his chest, Jūshirō stumbled across the small room towards the medicine chest against the opposite wall. The long-suppressed cough got him before he made it halfway, ripping through his lungs like it was he who'd been stabbed. He fell to his knees, still coughing, fighting to inhale between each racking tear. 

Finally he collapsed entirely, ears ringing and vision rapidly darkening, though not so much that he could miss the bright splatter of blood across the tatami. Seeing that, he nearly panicked and it took every ounce of willpower and experience to stop fighting, to allow his muscles to unlock themselves so that his lungs could empty properly and air could come rushing back in, if only in shallow, gulping breaths around the still persistent urge to cough.

Once he could move again, he crawled the rest of the way to the chest, numbly wrestled open the middle drawer on the second row and extracted one of the twists of brown paper inside. His medicine; rare, dangerous and mixed for him by Unohana-taichō, and only to be taken when it was truly needed. 

With shaking fingers, he unwrapped paper, pressed it to his open mouth and sucked. The fine powder burnt like fire in his throat and he dropped his head back against the wall, shivering as the medicine began to work its magic. 

And it had to be magic. Jūshirō could think of no other reason as to why, here in the real world, his lungs simply stopped needing to be filled, why his body no longer felt like it needed to breathe. Logic determined it should be impossible, and yet there it was. And here he was, propped against the wall of his room, heart thundering, head reeling, and yet chest resolutely inert.

It didn't last for long, thank all the gods. With a rattling huff, he drew in a single breath then, a minute or two later, another, and slowly slowly he began to breathe normally again. Tension seeped out of him, loosening his shoulders and leaving his hands tingling. He screwed up the brown paper, ignoring the bloody imprint of lips across it, and, when he felt steady enough, rose to go and find something to clean the tatami. It would never do to allow the blood to leave a stain.

As far as bankai went, he'd deal with that later.

#

Jūshirō was deeply asleep, still recovering from his attack, when a stranger saying his name brought him upright with a jerk. The sight of a black-clad Onmitsukidō operative kneeling beside his bed made the defensive kidō he'd been halfway to casting die unspoken and he swallowed back nerves instead.

"Can I help you?" he asked, desperately trying to remember if he might have done anything to give himself away. But those were the thoughts of a guilty person, unwarranted since neither he nor Shunsui had done anything to feel guilty for. Yet. Except perhaps remove the children from the Maggot's Nest, but that whole mess had been settled months ago. 

"Your presence is required at Onmitsukidō headquarters," the operative intoned. 

Another frisson of fear wormed its way through Jūshirō's gut. "Am I permitted to ask why?" 

Silence was the only reply. Jūshirō took that to mean ‘no’ and hurried to dress, doing his best to ignore the operative who was apparently not going anywhere until Jūshirō went with him. Did that make this an arrest? And if it was, should he try to leave a warning for Shunsui?

No, that would risk drawing attention where none might yet be directed. Better to cooperate for now, until he knew exactly what was going on.

#

The only thing stopping the room being a cell was the lack of bars on the door. Still, Jūshirō paced its narrow confines, wondering how long he was to be kept in isolation like this. So far it had been hours, the only relief coming in the form of a spartan meal delivered by yet another black clad operative almost indistinguishable from the first. Jūshirō had sat himself down on the single cushion and done his best to eat, but worry made him pick at the food and eventually he'd pushed it aside, contenting himself with just the bowl of tea that had been served along with it.

That though was now long gone, and Jūshirō had nothing to keep his mind away from spiralling possibilities. This being something to do with his family seemed unlikely since Onmitsukidō only got involved with the nobility, even the lesser ones, if there were serious criminal issues and the Ukitake as a rule were a law abiding bunch. 

The division then. Jūshirō tried to imagine the upright Captain Katamura doing anything illegal and failed entirely. The man wouldn't even let Jūshirō buy him lunch in case it led to accusations of favoritism. 

Which led him to the only other situations he could think of: that Central had discovered Shunsui was hiding the Ise sword; that someone had finally after all these years connected the disappearance of an obscure Rukongai god with Jūshirō's miraculous survival; or, and this one scared him the most in some ways, something had happened with little Sōsuke-kun. 

It was such a distinct possibility. They'd done their best to hide the child away, but Captain Shutara was a woman of capacious resources. She was more than capable of tracking him and if she went after him again, Jūshirō could easily see Sōsuke trying to fight back, and attacking a captain would be enough to see him tried for treason, child or no. That alone would be enough to get his guardians pulled in by Onmitsukidō for questioning.

A sudden burst of agitated reiatsu was followed by several raised voices down the corridor somewhere. Jūshirō pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear what might be happening, and was almost caught in the act of eavesdropping when the door was suddenly slammed open. 

He jumped back, just in time not to be run over by the imposing woman who strode through it. Shihōin Hiruko wasn't tall, but she made up for it in sheer presence. Everything about her screamed predator. From the large golden eyes glaring out above a nose that could almost be described as beaky, if one was feeling particularly foolhardy, to the kisaki no tsubasa, the Queen's Wing, she wore on her arm. The claw-like device purportedly allowed her to fly, and fit well with the cap of white-streaked hair brushed back from her high forehead, clinging to her head and neck like feathers. 

Tonight, in that uniform, she was instantly recognisable as Onmitsukidō's commander-in-chief. Jūshirō knew her better as the captain of the 8th division. 

"Shihōin-taicho," he said, dropping to one knee. Shihōin might not be his captain, but he knew when deference was due. But even as he greeted her, his stomach was sinking further. If the commander was involved, then this was something serious.

"Ukitake," she replied in an exasperated tone he recognized from over a decade of captain's meetings. "Why in all the gods' names has Katamura been falsifying dangai records?"

"W-what?" Jūshirō startled, head jerking up. Every ounce of his surprise must have been obvious on his face because he didn't think he'd ever been so comprehensively blindsided in his life. "Katamura-taichō- what?"

He was met by a very satisfied expression in golden eyes. The captain jerked her head. "Now that was the reaction I was looking for. See girl, sometimes the best method is to shock the truth out of them."

The slight black-clad figure beside her took a step forward and cocked her head slightly. Eyes more amber than gold studied Jūshirō from above a face-concealing mask. "You definitely did that," she said after a moment. The voice was young, though not a child's, and carried an undertone of amusement. 

Shihouin-taichō snorted. "You've not met my granddaughter, have you, Ukitake." She gestured to him irritably. "Come on, stand up, boy. Introduce yourself properly."

Jūshirō did as he was instructed, bowing low as he should to the Shihouin heir. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shihoin-sama." 

A quick tug on her mask revealed a bright, if slightly lopsided smile, set in a pretty face. "We're not at a banquet, Ukitake-fukutaichō, you can call me Yoruichi-san."

It was true that, militarily, he did hold a higher rank than her, but the Shihōin were True First and the Ukitake barely nobility at all. Jūshirō glanced at Captain Shihōin, who simply rolled her eyes as though she'd heard it all before. "Yoruichi-sama?" he ventured.

He got a sound like strangled hiss for his trouble but, before her granddaughter could say anything else, Captain Shihōin held up her hand. "He's made his decision, girl. Learn to meet people halfway."

"Yes, grandmother," Yoruichi replied with a duck of her head as she stood back, pulling her mask up again. 

That over with, the captain's full regard returned to Jūshirō, who did his best not to wither beneath it. "Back to Katamura. You say you had no idea he'd been tampering with the dangai records."

Strictly speaking, Jūshirō hadn't actually said that, but he wasn't about to argue since it was true anyway. "No idea at all," he said, then paused, racking his brains for any snippet that might shed light on the situation. "I don't even know why he would do it. If he did." Sudden doubt assailed him. "Are you sure it was him? Did he confess?"

Did you catch him red-handed, swooping down like a hawk from the midday sun? 

"Not yet. But it's Hikifune who discovered the evidence, and I've no reason to doubt her." Shihōin was frowning into the distance, her eyes sharp like she could see through the walls.

"Hikifune-fukutaichō?" Jūshirō asked, his head spinning as he tried to understand what the lieutenant of the 12th had to with all of this. 

"Captain, as of last week," Shihōin corrected and, oh my goodness, that was some news that Jūshirō hadn't heard.

"Captain Shutara's dead?" 

His attempt to keep the relief out of his voice failed completely he suspected, since Shihōin-taichō turned a narrow-eyed look on him. "Not overly fond of her, were you?" she said, adding, "Not that I blame you. Bit of a strange bird, that one. Anyway, she's none of our concern now, not where she is. Katamura and her other hangers-on are an entirely different matter however."

Katamura was a Shutara hanger-on? How was that even possible? As far as Jūshirō knew, the pair of them despised each other. They'd certainly never exchanged more words than necessary at captain's meetings, and Jūshirō knew for a fact that Katamura regarded most of Shutara's experiments as ill-founded at best. 'You don't do that to your colleagues!' he remembered Katamura ranting one time. 'And especially not to those under your command. You have a duty of care to everyone in the lower ranks.'

It was a position Jūshirō entirely endorsed, which was one of the reasons he'd held his slightly stiff-necked captain in such high regard.

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand," he said, finally accepting that there had to be more pieces to this puzzle than he currently had access to.

"No one's expecting that you would, if you're not in on it," Shihōin replied. "And though you've given me your word that you're not, we're going to need a little more than that, I'm afraid." Turning, she headed for the door. "Now, I have business elsewhere. Yoruichi here will take over your questioning."

As she left, another figure stepped into the room, and this one Jūshirō didn't recognise at all. He was about Yoruichi's age, dressed in a standard shihakusho, and with a head of tousled yellow hair had a generally unkempt air about him that put Jūshirō strongly in mind of Shunsui on a bad day. He was also carrying a strange white humanoid-shaped piece of wood in one hand and Sōgyo no Kotowari in the other.

At Yoruichi's gesture, he handed the zanpakutō to her, leaned the wooden thing against the wall and bowed politely to Jūshirō. "I am right in thinking that Ukitake-fukutaichō-san has yet to achieve bankai, yes?"

"Erm…" Jūshirō flicked a look at Yoruichi, who didn't even bother to make eye contact. That wasn't exactly reassuring. 

Doubt slipped sticky fingers through Jūshirō's mind. Why did they want to know about his bankai? Had they found out about Mimihagi? Was all this about Katamura simply an elaborate ruse to get him off guard? 

If it was, he couldn't see their angle. 

Rather than end up entirely paranoid, and since no-one had brought out the thumbscrews yet, Jūshirō decided to answer truthfully. "Yes. Though I am close to-"

"That's all I needed to know," the young man put in. "This," he continued, pointing to the human-shaped thing leaning against the wall, "is a tenshintai. It will forcibly manifest your zanpakutō spirit and allow it to be questioned. Do you understand?"

Jūshirō stared at him and then at the thing against the wall, feeling vaguely horrified at the whole idea. "Um… no?"

The young man huffed and turned to his companion. "Can you explain it to him better, Yoruichi-san? I thought I used small enough words but he's obviously stupid."

"Don't be rude, Kisuke," Yoruichi told him, flicking him around the ear as she sauntered past. He flinched and grabbed the offended part, frowning at her as she picked up the... tenshintai, was it? --and turned to Jūshirō. "It's really quite simple. You stick your zanpakutō into this. It forces the spirit out of your body like bankai training does, and then we question it. Unlike their wielders, spirits have got no reason to lie, so we tend to get a straight story out of them."

That all made a horrible kind of sense except Jūshirō had absolutely no idea what would happen if he tried. Manifesting his zanpakutō spirit had been his main problem with attaining bankai in the first place. Mimihagi and Sōgyo no Kotowari were too closely entwined to permit it.

"You want to do this now?" 

If they did, and he succeeded… Jūshirō's chest compressed at the very thought and he put a hand to his throat as his cough threatened a return.

The young man, Kisuke, shrugged. "Unless you've got a good reason not to do it."

"Like perhaps you're worried what your zanpakutō might tell us," Yoruichi added, taking a step forward. A slight movement over by the door clued Jūshirō in to there being more guards in the corridor. Backup, in case he tried to escape, presumably. 

"No, no, I just...." Jūshirō racked his brains trying to think of some excuse. Anything that might put them off, in only for a little while. "It's just, I had a rather nasty attack last night and Unohana-taichō has warned me not to do anything too strenuous in the immediate aftermath." It was grasping at straws, but it was all he could think of right now. And honestly it wasn't entirely untrue. The way Jūshirō's chest felt right now, another attack could be imminent.

At the mention of the 4th division captain's name, Yoruichi and Kisuke immediately exchanged worried looks and turned their backs, dark and light heads pressed close together as they exchanged hurried words.

"Will it hurt him worse if he's sick already?" 

"I have no idea. I've not used it often enough to tell."

"Probably best to check with her first then."

"Good idea. If we kill him by accident, she might get mad."

"You're right," Yoruichi agreed with the air of a decision made. Turning back around, she levelled a look in Jūshirō's direction. "Looks like you've got a raincheck, lieutenant, at least until we clear it with Unohana-taichō."

Jūshirō tried not to let the relief show in his face. Since she smirked back at him, that probably meant he'd failed yet again at hiding his emotions. Onmitsukidō were disturbingly good at reading people. 

"But you're staying right here until it's done," she added, and lifted her hand, the one holding Sōgyo no Kotowari. "And I'll hang on to this. As insurance."

#

Not having his sword wasn't much of an inconvenience; it had been years since Jūshirō had needed physical contact with it to sit jinzen. The moment the door closed behind the pair, he sat himself tailor-style on the single cushion and dropped easily into his inner world.

Utter darkness quickly surrounded him, and a silent stillness that pressed on his inner ear. In this place, no breath passed his lips, no touch caressed his skin. It was if he hung unformed in infinite nothingness.

Then the darkness split, revealing a single giant eye, its pupil a deep storm-wracked grey. Mimihagi. 

_They wish to seperate us._

The statement didn't come in the form of words but knowledge; one minute unknown, the next known.

'You saw?' 

_I see all. Know all. What is to come and what has been._ There was a pause, long enough for Jūshirō to recognise it for what it was: hesitation. _Except, I did not foresee this._

An event that Mimihagi hadn't known about could only mean one thing. 

The boy's contraption must contain some part of the Soul King.

Mimihagi's concurrence settled into Jūshirō's mind. They'd discussed this before, many times. Jūshirō had long accepted that Mimihagi either would not or could not share all it knew with him and so he rarely asked, but in the early days, when Jūshirō had first discovered the strangeness of his inner world, he'd wanted to know it all. That was when Mimihagi had explained, slowly and carefully, the exception to its omnipotence. Its original self. Any past or future which contained a part of the soul king was hidden from it.

'What will happen if I do what they ask?' Jūshirō enquired tentatively.

_I do not know. WE do not know. We have no desire to hurt, but hurt may occur if our power is released uncontrolled. Our shield cannot offer protection from ourselves._

Jūshirō suppressed a shudder at the thought. 

'Then I will try to stop them.'

_And I will try to find the safest path forward._

Jūshirō opened his eyes to discover himself still alone. He sighed, letting his head rest against the wall. 

For the life of him, he couldn't think of an excuse to avoid this line of questioning. But neither could he risk Mimihagi's power being unleashed in such an uncontrolled way. The shrine had acted as something of a container for it, then later Jūshirō's body had served the same function. Without either, it would be akin to the Soul King suddenly arriving in the middle of Onmitsukidō headquarters. It was entirely possible the power would destroy Seireitei itself.

And he couldn't simply tell them about Mimihagi either. Jūshirō might serve the Gotei freely and willingly, but he was under no illusions about it. Informed of such a powerful being, there would be some who would stop at nothing until they possessed it for themselves.

So, no. If that was the only other possible solution, then he would simply refuse to co-operate and take whatever punishment was deemed fit. He could only hope that Shunsui forgave him his hubris in facing this alone.

As the grinding solitude continued, Jūshirō's gaze inevitably turned to the tenshintai still leaning beside the door. Such an innocent looking contraption to contain some essence of the Soul King. How had it been accomplished? Or was this thing some part of the Shihōin regalia.

Curious now, Jūshirō stood up and wandered over to take a closer look. He'd thought the doll had been constructed, but this close, it looked more organic, like it had been 'grown' into a human shape somehow. A pair of ridges marked where the bottom of the ribs might be were it truly human, and another bisected the upper part of the torso and pointy head. The only other detail was a cord that hung in a double loop from one shoulder to the other. All in all, the thing was very unprepossessing, though definitely strange.

It also felt odd in terms of reiatsu. Like there was something buzzing inside it.

Reaching out, Jūshirō touched a finger to the surface. It was cooler than a living thing, but still warm to the touch. Warmed by the power within? Jūshirō had no idea, and no way to find out. And even if he did, it was entirely possible he wouldn't understand. Science had never been a passion of his, even at Academy, though he had the utmost respect for those who chose to pursue it. Even if it did turn them a little odd.

Like that Kisuke boy. And Captain Shutara.

Briefly, Jūshirō found himself wondering all over again if she was dead, or had simply retired to better pursue her experiments in peace. He did rather hope for the former, even if it did make him a bad person. Knowing Shutara was gone for good might help Sōsuke-kun sleep easier at nights.

But that kind of thinking wasn't getting him anywhere right now. What he needed was a solution to this problem. How to allow a part of the Soul King to manifest into a false body without destroying Seireitei in the process.

_Perhaps, as it is already a part of me, we can become one with it._

Jūshirō blinked as the knowledge landed in his brain. This was another thing they'd discussed in the past: the separated parts of the Soul King were more than capable of merging again. 

Is there enough inside it? How can we be sure?

_Place your hand on the doll._

Jūshirō did as he was told and felt a strange tugging behind his heart. It went on just long enough to become almost painful before it faded to nothing again.

Well? he asked.

_It will do well enough for the shinigami to be convinced._

That was good enough. It would have to be. No sooner had Jūshirō retaken his seat than several sets of footsteps sounded in the corridor and a moment later the door drew back. Two people entered: Kisuke, who was carrying a large box, and a handsome young man who Jūshirō didn't recognise wearing a 4th division med kit bag.

"Yoruichi-san sends her apologies," Kisuke said, placing his box on the floor. "She's needed elsewhere. But Unohana-taichō's given permission for us to question you, so long as Ogidō stays in the room." He glanced up at Jūshirō, grey eyes alight with something like glee. "If you're ready, that is."

"I am," Jūshirō replied, hoping it wasn't a lie. 

"Excellent!" Twisting on the spot, Kisuke leaned out through the door and a moment later he was handing Jūshirō Sōgyo no Kotowari. 

Jūshirō's fingers closed around the sheath with an odd sense of relief. Although he didn't carry his sword everywhere, he didn't like to be separated from it. Especially when it was involuntary. "What do I do now?" he asked.

Kisuke stood up, held the tenshintai by the top of the head and said, "Draw your sword and stick it through this. You won't have to thrust hard. It's designed to accept a blade easily."

Jūshirō did as he was told, aiming for where the heart would be. For a second, the sword stuck there, then it seemed to quiver in Jūshirō's hand and he felt that odd tug again before the whole thing exploded in a burst of reiatsu. Everyone jumped back and when the smoke cleared, both tenshintai and sword were gone and in their place stood two humanoid shapes. Superficially, they resembled the thing that had produced them, in that both had pointy heads, ill-defined bodies and were vaguely whitish in colour, but these new creatures had eyes much the same green as Jūshirō's own, mouths as toothy as a shark's and reiatsu that was entirely Sōgyo no Kotowari's. 

They were also only about three feet tall. 

"Um..." Jūshirō said, casting a worried look at Kisuke, who didn't look perturbed in the slightest. In fact, he was hunkered down fiddling with something in his box. 

At Jūshirō's hesitation, he looked up and a brief frown skated across his face. Then he glanced at the two miniature spirits and the expression resolved into a sly grin. "I'm guessing they don't look like that in your inner world," he said, holding up a hand before Jūshirō could do more than utter a mild sound of protest. "Not that I'm asking. It's just, I've seen this before, when a spirit can't exist in its natural state out here, the manifestation can get kind of random, and since your zanpakutō is probably some kind of fish thing, air's probably not the ideal environment for it." He stood up, bringing with him some kind of measuring gauge. "It's definitely them though. The reiatsu's a perfect match."

Definitely them. Jūshirō took another look, his first look at his zanpakutō spirit. Was Kisuke right? Would it have been some kind of fish if Mimihagi hadn't been a part of him? He definitely loved the sea, in all its aspects, though especially the spring storms that swept across the bay, filling the sky with flashing forks of lightning so bright they eclipsed the lamps warning unwary sailors off the rocks.

Would a fish thrive in that kind of environment? 

If the water were its shield, then probably. 

"Yes," he said, feeling the truth of it, the truth in it. The truth of his zanpakutō's name.

 _'Sōgyo no Kotowari'_ , a high child-like voice said in his head and, as it spoke, the spirits conjured by the tenshintai shimmered and took on a firmer, more defined shape. Still strange. Still not entirely human with their toothy mouths and non-existent noses, but there were at least hands now, even if the fingers were webbed and covered in silver scales.

Kisuke, who'd been watching, pulled an fascinated expression. "Looks like this might pay off for you too," he said. "Makes you wonder if you couldn't use this thing to force bankai." He chuckled, attention turning back to his box of tricks as he turned dials.

After a moment or two of all of them simply standing there, Jūshirō ventured, "Weren't there supposed to be questions?"

Kisuke looked up, blinked at Jūshirō and, when the distracted fog cleared from his eyes, yelped, "Crap, yes! Hang on, I need to call my boss."

That turned out to be Toisaka-gundanchō, the head of the Interrogation Corps, an entirely non-descript man who frankly Jūshirō would have walked past in the market without looking at twice. The questions he asked, on the other hand, were astute and pointed, quickly cutting to the heart of a matter.

Sōgyo no Kotowari answered each of them slowly and apparently thoughtfully, their high pitched voices strangely at odds with the seriousness of their tones as first one and then the other were subjected to questioning. And throughout it all, Toisaka failed to live up to his reputation as a cruel torturer. He was thorough, yes, but not unkind, seeming to understand that zanpakutō had an almost childlike understanding of the way the world worked.

From what Jūshirō could piece together from the line of questioning, the events under investigation had happened several years ago. Someone, possibly a member of Central 46 or one of their family, had either ordered or bribed Katamura-taichō into altering the dangai logs in order to cover up some kind of unauthorised activity. Presumably something that involved the previous captain of the 12th division since Toisaka seemed very interested in any and all interactions between Katamura and Shutara. 

He also wanted to know if Jūshirō had ever been asked to do anything similar by any of the council members he'd interacted with during his duties. Thankfully the answer to that was a simple 'never'. And even if they had, Jūshirō wouldn't have been able to help them since only those of captain rank were able to access the records at all. 

It all wrapped up more quickly than Jūshirō could have dreamed. Toisaka-gundanchō indicated to Kisuke that he was finished, gathered his papers and rose from behind his desk. Jūshirō had to scramble to attain his own feet so he could dip a respectful bow as the Chief Interrogator strode from the room. A moment later, his attendants followed him, carrying the desk between them.

As the door closed, there was a burst of reiatsu and when Jūshirō looked round, the spirits had vanished and Sōgyo no Kotowari and the blank tenshintai were tumbling to the floor. Kisuke caught both before they hit the ground, and frowned slightly at Jūshirō as he handed the sword back over. "Sorry not to give you a chance to say goodbye, but we've got a lot to get through by the end of the day."

"No, that's fine," Jūshirō assured him, even as his heart twinged with sadness at the possibility of never seeing them again. "I understand that you're busy. Are you questioning the rest of the division?"

Kisuke's expression turned squirrelish. "I can't really say. I'm sure you understand. Ongoing investigation and all that."

"Of course, of course." Jūshirō waved him off. "It was foolish to ask." And indicative of how stressful the last few hours had been that Jūshirō had even done so. He really should know better. "I don't suppose you happen to know if I'm free to leave."

"That I can tell you," Kisuke replied with a touch of relief. Standing up with his box jammed under one arm and the tenshintai tucked under the other he said, "The answer's yes. Your escort should be here any moment. They'll make sure you get home in one piece."

And no doubt hang around afterwards to check he didn't try to make contact with anyone suspicious, Jūshirō added for himself. "Thank you," he said out loud, nodding a bow. "It's been… enlightening."

The grin he got back for his trouble was impish. Kisuke dipped a deeper bow. "Same here," he said. "Good to meet you, Ukitake-fukutaichō." And with that, he fair scampered out of the door, drawing it closed with his foot behind him.

True to Kisuke's word, the promised escort did quickly arrive and Jūshirō was soon back at the 9th. The division grounds were scarily quiet. The normally bustling training grounds deserted, the barracks doors closed and even the editing department was all locked up tight.  
As they walked across the quad, Jūshirō wondered exactly how many of his people had been taken in for questioning to leave the place looking like such a ghost town, only to realise, with a sudden heart-stopping stomach-dropping thought that, with Katamura most probably under arrest, it was going to be down to him to find out! About everything. And to handle that everything when he had found it out! 

In fact, as of right now, he was, in all but name, the captain of the 9th division!

Thank goodness they had another three weeks until the next issue of the Seireitei Bulletin was due out.

#

Over the next few days Jūshirō was simultaneously run off his feet and having the time of his life. There was so much to do, so much to manage. Katamura-taichō had run the kind of tight ship that saw all decisions going through him, so Jūshirō was basically starting from scratch and making it up as he went along. Not to mention the sudden new dimension of having to monitor security for all of Seireitei and not just Central.

For hours upon hours he ate only when someone pressed food into his hands and slept where he dropped once the last of his energy was spent. There was no time for worry, no time for second-thoughts, and there was certainly no time for thinking about his zanpakutō, bankai or otherwise.

Then the formal charges dropped.

"Treason," Genryusai-sensei intoned from the front of the meeting hall.

Silence thick with apprehension fell over the room as everyone came to same terrifying realisation: if Onmitsukidō had found one traitor, they'd be looking for more. In the next few months, any and all misdeeds were likely to be investigated and that put every one of the gathered officers in jeopardy. The Gotei 13 might be an army but it was far from immune from the back-stabbing politics common in any other large organisation. 

Jūshirō's heart skipped a beat, his gaze immediately seeking out Shunsui in the line opposite. He towered over his diminutive captain making it easy to make eye contact, and Jūshirō could hardly bear the sudden flicker of fear he saw there. 

And he wasn't the only one. Several people were shooting uneasy glances at the place the 8th division captain unusually stood. Today it was occupied only by her stalwart lieutenant, Yoshiyuki, who remained unbowed by all the attention. Presumably Shihōin-taichō was already out hunting. 

A strong aristocratic voice suddenly cut through the silence. "Katamura's behaviour was not unexpected, surely, from one who came from such a place." Kuchiki Hiromasa was so old, he was more prune than person, but that never stopped him from speaking his mind. 

Jūshirō immediately dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing better than to risk catching anyone's eye with that kind of comment in the wind.

"Eight east is hardly Zaraki. And anyway, the Rukongai have provided some of our best troops." That was Kuruyashiki, 7th Kenpachi, captain of the 11th and one of Shunsui's regular drinking companions. He was a big man, with an even larger appetite for sake, whose scruffy outward appearance concealed a sharp strategic mind and the kind of instinct for battle that had allowed him to hold his division for centuries. 

He was also Captain Kuchiki's nemesis. They invariably found something to disagree about at every meeting, though so far neither had ever actually come to blows.

"A subject I'm sure you would know more about than most," Warishita, captain of the 3rd and Kuchiki fanboy, shot back, "considering the unfortunate circumstances of your birth."

Jūshirō winced inwardly. That was fighting talk, especially since rumour had it that Kuruyashiki's father was more likely to be a particularly strapping member of the household guard than his mother's legal, and somewhat diminutive husband. 

"Enough!" Genryusai-sensei's staff slammed into the floor. "Katamura's origins have no bearing on this matter, only his behaviour as a captain of the Gotei. With that, he has brought shame on all of us. Let this be a lesson. Dismissed!"

And that was pretty much that. Denied details of the exact charges, the meeting broke up with the captains heading towards the exit in a kind of fast-moving gossiping scrum. Jūshirō did his best to catch up with Shunsui, who'd been swept ahead of them, only to be pulled up short by a touch on his arm. 

It was Chōjirō, the 1st division lieutenant. "Ukitake-fukutaichō, the sōtaichō would like a few words with you."

Jūshirō cast a nervous look back at his old teacher, who, as he often did, looked asleep standing there leaning against his staff. It was all an act though. Jūshirō knew that from bitter experience. Genryusai would be watching and listening to all of them, ready to pounce on the slightest wrongdoing. 

But Jūshirō wasn't that boy any longer, and neither, despite what Jūshirō affectionately called him, was Genryusai his sensei. He was the commanding officer of the Gotei 13 and Jūshirō was a lieutenant whose captain had just been charged with treason. It was time Jūshirō faced that fact and got on with things.

Any temptation to ask Chōjirō what the sōtaichō might actually want vanished in the face of this moment of clarity. Not that there would have been much point in asking; Chōjirō's loyalty was to his Captain, forever and always.

Jūshirō huffed out a sigh, dipped a bow, and said, "Thank you, Chōjirō-san."

Chōjirō nodded back and withdrew, leaving Jūshirō to approach his commanding officer alone.

"You wished to see me, sōtaichō?" he said, dropping to one knee in the correct manner for a junior officer reporting for duty. 

With his head bowed, he couldn't see when Genryusai opened his eyes, but he felt it. The regard of such a man didn't rest lightly on anyone.

"I did," came the reply. There followed a pause, long and considering. Jūshirō did his best not to fidget. Then, "It has been decided that the 9th is no longer a suitable posting for you."

Despite himself, Jūshirō startled, looking up, and met with surprisingly kindly red-brown eyes. "Sir?"

"Katamura has proved a grave disappointment, and though no blame can be attached to you for his behaviour, Seireitei's security, and especially that of Central 46, has been deemed too important to risk."

In other words, certain people in Central wanted Jūshirō gone and the sōtaichō was doing it the least painful way possible. Jūshirō bowed his head again. "I understand, sōtaichō-san. May I ask who will be taking over the 9th?" 

The answer would tell him a lot, and not only how worried he should be for his soldiers after he left. Currently, as far as Jūshirō knew, there weren't any vacant lieutenancies so, if they weren't planning to fill his position with a straight swap from another division, it could mean a demotion. That would be a hard blow to take if it came, but Jūshirō would stand it, somehow.

"It seems Osanmi-chan passed the captain's exam several months ago and has expressed an interest in taking over the Seireitei Bulletin. It has been recommended therefore that she is promoted to captain, and that she take one of the 8th division's fourth seats, Muguruma Kensei as her lieutenant."

Which meant either the position of lieutenant at the 13th was open, or fourth seat at the 8th. If Jūshirō were Shihōin-taichō, he'd want him at the 8th, close enough to keep an eye on. 

But a joint fourth seat. It had been almost a century since Jūshirō had had to share a rank with someone else.

"And me?" he hazarded. 

"The final decision is yet to be made," the sōtaichō replied. "And before it is, I need to know how close you are to achieving bankai."

Oh. Because of course, the reason Osanmi-san had sat the captain's exam was so she could relieve Isoarashi-taichō.

Jūshirō didn't know the 13th division commander very well, but he knew enough to know the man wanted to retire. Probably on the grounds of ill-health, going by the number of times he'd seen the tall florid-faced captain entering Unohana-taichō's offices. 

So they were looking to Jūshirō to take over from him instead of Osanmi. 

Which would never happen if he couldn't achieve bankai.

In fact, he wouldn't even get this lieutenancy if he couldn't tell the sōtaichō right now that he was close. And if he told the truth, that bankai might be forever out of his reach, he'd be demoted to fourth seat in the 8th division and would probably never gain higher rank again.

As a rule, lying didn't come easy to Jūshirō. He didn't like doing it, even when it was for a good reason, and he knew that his discomfort with it showed on his face. Now though he needed to lie better than he had in his whole life, because he needed this position, this chance. 

Without it, he may never get to the Royal Realm, and never get a chance to reunite Mimihagi with the rest of the Soul King.

And, if it turned out in the future that bankai was impossible? Well then, he'd cross that bridge when it came. As of right now, he still planned to get there, so really it was hardly a lie at all. 

Lifting his head, he spoke the words loud and clear. "I'm almost there, sensei. I give you my word that I am very close."

"Good." The base of the sōtaichō's staff tapped against the floor. "Then the decision is made. Your new post as lieutenant of the 13th division will come into effect immediately."

Jūshirō ducked his head again, heart thundering in his chest. He'd got away with it! He could hardly believe his luck. And now he'd have the time he needed to make it true.

"I will schedule your captain's exam for a year from now. Presumably that will be long enough."

It would have to be. "Yes, sensei. And thank you for giving me this opportunity."

Genryusai made a quiet snorting sound. "Don't thank me, boy, thank your new captain. Apparently he's amused by you having the same names or something. Anyway, he's waiting for you outside. I'd go catch up if I were you."

"Yes, sōtaichō, sir." Jūshirō leapt to his feet and with a final deep bow, hurried from the room. It was time to introduce himself properly to his new captain.


	2. Life in the Fast Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui discovers the true depths of his inner world, while Jushiro's new posting brings more pressures than he was expecting.

The majority of the captains hadn't made it any further than the walkway just outside the 1st division, where they now stood chatting in two distinct groups. Their lieutenants gathered nearby in a single, quieter huddle, exchanging information with equal fervour, except for Yoshiyuki, 8th division, who'd already vanished, and Kuchiki Ginrei, who stood alone as he always did, a polite distance from where his father was holding court.

Much as he wanted to join Shunsui, Jūshirō instead headed straight for the group of captains containing Isoarashi-taichō. Unfortunately that took him past the Kuchiki group just as Nukushina, 10th division, started waxing lyrical about how he'd suspected all along that Katamura was corrupt. 

"The face he showed people was just too good to be true," he declared, his thick sideburns fair bristling with indignation as he spoke. "I mean, in the normal run of things, if you show me a man without a vice, I'll show you a liar, but oh no, not Katamura Hiroji. There was no drinking for him. Or gambling. Or women. So there had to be something else going on there, it stood to reason, and oh look, there it is. He was a traitor all along."

Kuchiki was nodding along like he'd seen the exact same thing, as was Hosogoshi, the 2nd division captain, who Jūshirō knew for a fact had been singing Katamura's praises only last month. 

"What I don't understand is how Onmitsukidō managed to miss it." That was 3rd division captain, Warishita. His snide voice was unmistakable, even though Jūshirō had passed the point where he could see which of them was talking. "If they were doing their jobs properly-"

Kuchiki-taichō's snapped, "Watch your tone, Warishita," was equally recognizable. 

Warishita immediately grovelled, which apparently didn't go far enough to appease the 6th's captain entirely since he continued waspishly, "It's not your place to criticise Shihōin's methods. Or her outcomes. She is True First and has served with honour for longer than any of you have been alive." And was also his niece, if Ukitake remembered his clan allegiances properly. No wonder Kuchiki-taichō was defending her to the hilt. There was nothing Kuchiki hated more than stains on their family's honour.

The rest of the conversation was lost as Jūshirō drew close enough to Isoarashi's group that Kuruyashiki-taichō's voice drowned out everyone else's.

"Could have knocked me down with a feather," he was saying, using the phrase least likely to apply to him, ever. "The man was a legend, growing up. A role-model. Finding out he's a traitor's come as a complete shock."

"To all of us, I'm sure," Ayaoni, Shunsui's captain, replied with a polite duck of their covered head. Jūshirō had often thought the tiny captain might have been happier in the kidō corps with their penchant for concealing clothing, and yet the zanpakutō hanging from their obi was apparently very much a melee type. 

Though, Shunsui had mentioned that Ayaoni supplemented it during battle with an extraordinary level of combat kidō, so perhaps Jūshirō's thought wasn't entirely misplaced.

"Ah, Ukitake, there you are," Isoarashi said breathily, breaking off from his group to come and meet Jūshirō. "Yamamoto had a word with you, I assume." At Jūshirō's nod, he continued, "Good, good. Then I'll expect you at the 13th later today. In the meantime, please go and reassure your friend you're not about to be arrested. He looks so worried."

A slightly palsied hand gestured towards the lieutenants and when Jūshirō looked over, he could see what his new captain was getting at. Shunsui was staring over them with an expression on his face that bordered on distraught. If it weren't for the fact that Jūshirō knew Shunsui and his drama queen habits of old, he'd have been worried.

"Ignore him. He only does it to make me feel guilty," he quipped, before realising that he was speaking to someone who might not appreciate the joke. "That is, um…"

But Isoarashi was already chuckling. "Sounds more like a wife than a friend," he said, shaking his head is amusement. The motion seemed to unsteady him and he reached out, gripping Jūshirō's arm.

"Are you alright, sir," Jūshirō asked, worried as much by the weakness of the grip as he was by the old man's unsteadiness. 

And he was an old man. Kuchiki-taichō might resemble dried up fruit, and Genryusai-sensei's eyebrows were definitely developing a life of their own, but both men still had sharp minds and penetrating gazes. This close to, Isoarashi's eyes were hazy, their whites tinged with yellow, as was his skin beneath a flush of broken veins. Jūshirō was starting to understand why Genryusai-sensei had been so urgent in his demand with his bankai question. Isoarashi-taichō was living on borrowed time.

"I will be, I will be," Isoarashi said as he recovered his balance. Once upright, he patted Jūshirō's arm. "Off with you and talk to him. Take the rest of the day if you want. I'm sure Osanmi-chan won't mind seeing me back to headquarters and Kotetsu can organise having your stuff moved over."

That was an incredibly generous offer. Jūshirō hadn't had even a half day off in months. "Thank you, sir," he said, dipping a bow and making way as the new captain of the 9th slipped her arm through the old man's and helped him towards a waiting palanquin.   
If nothing else, Jūshirō decided with final grateful bow, he would spend a good part of the afternoon sitting jinzen. This kindly old captain deserved nothing less.

Once Isoarashi had gone, Jūshirō hurried over to the group of chattering lieutenants. The moment he saw Jūshirō coming, Shunsui gave up any pretence of being a part of them and turned to welcome him - with a barrage of questions.

"Where have you been? Are you alright? What did the old man want? Was it about Katamura?"

Jūshirō took in the wild eyes and unshaven chin, decided he might have unestimated the honesty of Shunsui's upset on this occasion, and did his best to be calming, "At the 9th and I'm fine, I promise. Sensei just wanted to talk about my next posting and-"

Shunsui gripped him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. "Tell me you're not being demoted. They have to know you had nothing to do with this-this treason thing or whatever Katamura did."

"At last count, the taking of bribes, falsifying dangai records and unauthorized trafficking in human souls into Seireitei," a self-satisfied voice behind Shunsui said. 

Shunsui's expression morphed into a scowl and he let go of Jūshirō to turn on the speaker,   
"And you couldn't have told me that earlier?"

Unohana-taichō's new lieutenant, Yamada Seinosuke, smiled smugly. "You didn't ask. I can also inform you that at least three of Central's members think this one was a part of it and tried to insist on having him arrested too." He looked up at Jūshirō. "Commander Shihōin refused. You must have made an excellent impression on her, Ukitake-san."

Jūshirō gave him a weak smile, still recovering from the specifics of the charges Katamura was facing. "I think it was the new tech that convinced Shihōin-taicho, not anything I said or did."

"New tech?" Inudō Rinki, lieutenant at the 2nd, asked, moving up to join them. Most of the group was migrating their way, Jūshirō realised, and all of them looked interested in what he had to say. 

Which made sense, he supposed, since, for all Yamada's posturing, Jūshirō was the only one of their number with first hand knowledge of the matter. Outside of Yoshiyuki anyway, and he'd never talk. He might not be actual Onmitsukidō, but the 8th was the next best thing. 

Jūshirō had no such reservations, and since no one had told him not to say anything, he was quite happy to indulge everyone's curiosity. "It's called a tenshintai and it manifests your zanpakutō spirit so they can question it," he said.

The silence that fell in the wake of his announcement was almost as profound as the one that had followed the treason charge. 

"How does it even do that?" Inudō asked eventually. The way she was chewing on the tip of her braid made her look rattled and Jūshirō found himself wondering what she had to hide. 

Which immediately made him think of Shunsui. 

He looked around just in time to see his lover gathering himself from what must have been a terrible shock.

"Honestly, I don't know. Kisuke did try to explain-" Jūshirō began.

"Kisuke? Weird, scruffy, blond kid that makes you want to punch him in the mouth?" Nanaguro from the 10th interjected. The scars up the side of his face gave him a perpetual easy-going grin, which was ironic considering his dour nature. 

When Jūshirō confirmed that that did indeed sound like the Kisuke he'd met, Nanaguro nodded, "Right, I remember him from Academy. Urahara Kisuke. Some people reckoned he was doing the Shihōin heir, but I don't see it myself. Not with her being True First and all."

Not from what Jūshirō had seen either. Though they were definitely good friends. Thick as thieves, as the saying went.

"Anyway, he was a hell of a brainiac even back then, so I ain't surprised they've got him working on shit like this now. Still, a machine that makes your zanpakutō squeal on you. I can't say I like the idea of something like that. "

Several of the others agreed with him and it was a much subdued group that broke up and followed after their departing captains.

Ayaoni was still deep in conversation with Hikifune, the pair walking together, so Jūshirō wasn't all that surprised when Shunsui let them get some distance ahead before moving to follow. Jūshirō fell into step beside him, and once they were moving and the two captains were safely out of earshot, asked, "Are you okay?"

Shunsui levelled a look at him, one that promised a late night with lots and lots of alcohol, and Jūshirō swallowed guiltily. "I'm sorry-" he began, not knowing exactly what he was apologizing for but needing to do it even so.

"I'd heard the 9th had been raided but I didn't find out until yesterday they'd only arrested Katamura," Shunsui said bleakley, averting his gaze, and the tone of his voice, combined with the dark circles under his eyes told Jūshirō the rest of the tale. He'd thought Jūshirō had been detained as well, and considering what had happened to last person Shunsui cared about who was put under arrest…

"I should have contacted you immediately," Jūshirō said, now knowing exactly what he was apologising for. "I so sorry, Shunsui. It was unforgivable of me to leave you in the dark like that." 

"Don't." Shunsui waved a hand. "My well-being isn't your responsibility, and I'd never want it to be. I just…" He shook his head and looked up, one corner of his mouth crooked into a half smile. "I need a better information network, is all."

"Like Yamada-kun's?" Jūshirō asked, sensing a lightening of Shunsui's mood and more than happy to play along. 

"As you say," Shunsui replied. "I don't know how that boy finds out half he knows, but he always seems to come up with the goods somehow."

"Oh, that's easy," Jūshirō replied. "He's the one who treats the members and their staff over at Central."

Shunsui looked momentarily taken aback. "Yamada does?" A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "He must be one hell of a healer then, because they can't like him for his personality." 

Memories of Yamada's brown nosing behaviour amongst the nobility sprang immediately to the forefront of Jūshirō's mind. "Actually, he fits in at Central exceedingly well," he said with less amusement. Central's continuous politicking and back-biting was one part of the 9th's job he wasn't going to miss. 

"Ah, yes," Shunsui said immediately, his good humour evaporating. "I suppose he would." 

And damn, that hadn't been the result Jūshirō wanted. He tried changing the subject. "I never did tell you where I was being posted."

Shunsui glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "I would assume the 13th, unless you've decided to take up nursing in your spare time."

Okay, if Shunsui was still teasing him, maybe things weren't quite so dire as all that. "You just fancy me in the uniform," he quipped back, and had the satisfaction of seeing Shunsui trip over his own feet.

"You'd do that?" Shunsui asked, after a second to, presumably, collect his thoughts. The tips of his ears were actually turning red. Apparently the idea of Jūshirō in a nurse's uniform really did appeal.

Jūshirō shrugged, but shot his lover a heated look. "Next time we go to the funaya, you bring the costume and I'll bring the suppositories."

Shunsui opened his mouth to agree, and Jūshirō saw the moment his brain processed the exact words. A broad grin split his face and he grabbed Jūshirō's arm, tucking them close. Happily, Jūshirō leaned into the furnace-like heat of him, wondering how he ever got by during those weeks duty kept them apart, and wasn't a bit surprised when Shunsui said, "You definitely know the way to a man's heart, Jū-chan." 

Being the good friend he was, Jūshirō didn't supply the obvious retort.

#

Every year, all around Seireitei, just as the cherry blossom began to fall, Academy graduates were joining their new divisions. For some, it would mean simply putting their stamp at the bottom of a service contract, but for others, the 5th included, it was considered something of a festival. A chance, as Captain Ayaoni had it, to celebrate who they were and what they stood for.

With the amount of food and sake on offer, not to mention the temporary lull in the usual grind of training schedules and form filling, it should have been one of Shunsui's favorite times of the year. It wasn't. At least, not after the captain had had the bright idea of including a demonstration of shikai by the seated officers in the revelries.

It was exactly the kind of thing that Katen Kyōkotsu hated. "We are not some pet to be beribboned and paraded in public," she'd retorted the first year, and every year since it had taken increasingly serious amounts of persuasion to get her to cooperate. 

This year was proving even more problematic.

"No."

Shunsui glared at Katen Kyōkotsu lounging beneath her tree, sipping languidly on her cup of sake and wondered if it was allowed to strangle one's zanpakutō spirit. Since they'd taken in the Ise sword, she'd become even more temperamental, and Shunsui was at his wits end to know what to do about it.

"You can't just say no. As lieutenant, it's my job to lead the demonstration and I can't do that if I can't release shikai."

"The petty demands of your ridiculous rituals mean nothing to me," she sniffed. 

Shunsui clung to his temper through sheer willpower alone and somehow managed to summon up a smile. "But they mean a lot to me, Ohana-chan." He dropped his voice, made it wheedling. "There must be something that will win me half a day's games."

She looked at him over her bowl, eyebrows sceptical, then her gaze shifted pointedly to the bone and flower altar again. Shunsui heaved a heavy sigh and flopped back on chill grass. Around him, the wind picked up, whipping the last of the blossoms from the branches and sending them spiralling across the sky, whirling in a frenetic gavotte. 

Caught between spring garb and full summer dress, the denuded branches cut across white clouds like strokes of ink. Shunsui stared up at them, wondering if there was a message in them somewhere. Some clue as to how he could fix this so that both Katen Kyōkotsu and his promise to Nanao's mother were satisfied.

There had to be a way, but for the life of him, he wouldn't work out what it might be.

"Can't you just do this and I'll make it up to you afterwards?" he said - though honestly it was more like a whine. He'd be ashamed if he weren't so tired of the whole thing. 

"If you don't stop being lazy, I may just kick you out entirely," Katen Kyōkotsu retorted.

Shunsui jerked his head up to stare at her, and when he did, the strangest thing happened. The shape of the branches seemed to superimpose themselves over her, creating a tree where there was none in life, a tree that seemed to split Katen Kyōkotsu in two.

He blinked, but the illusion persisted, rooted it seemed in the shadows that edged his inner world. 

Now that was a message even he could understand. Obviously there was something here he'd put off for far too long.

Rolling to his feet, he adjusted his hat and checked his swords. Both were where they should be, tucked firmly through his obi, and with no excuses left, he nodded his goodbyes to Katen Kyōkotsu and set off across the grass. 

She followed his progress with doubtful eyes. He could feel them, a brand across his back. Did she really have that little faith in him, after all he'd gone through to win her shikai?

That she would threaten to take even that away.

The shadows loomed, chittering madness on the edge of hearing. Shunsui swallowed down nerves and continued. One step, two. Like stepping into the ocean. Darkness crept over him and... cold? 

He'd expected the temperature to drop; it stood to reason, since light meant warmth and thus vice versa; but this wasn't physical cold, this was the chill of the grave. The shiver brought on by bone-deep dread, and it took every ounce of Shunsui's courage to keep walking, to let the shadows close over his head. 

It was akin to being devoured. Or so Shunsui would imagine, since he'd never had the experience. The shadows shifted and flowed around him, alive almost in their patterning. And the whispers. They filled his head now, formless and nameless, but filled with malice and madness.

Not alone, they told him. Watching, always watching. We see you.

Something caught in the corner of Shunsui's vision. He jumped, then silently remonstrated with himself for letting it get to him. He was a shinigami for goodness sake; he wasn't supposed to be scared of monsters, he was one.

And yet the feeling persisted, intensifying with every step he took until he could feel them, the monsters in the shadows, slavering jaws poised to bite, claws inches from his neck, blades stabbing down-

Something brushed across his back as Shunsui spun, swords drawn, ready for the clash of metal. 

And found nothing. Just shadows, full of silence and whispers.

Again, across his arm this time! He lunged, but still, still there was nothing. 

Again! His neck, the kiss of a blade and this time his hands shook as he thrust his crossed swords high, so sure that the killing strike was coming that his whole body was ready for it.

When it had still failed to arrive long seconds later, he lowered his swords and stood, warily, eyes peering blindly into the shifting shadows. Panic still edged at his thoughts, and it was that which made him stop, take a breath, and think.

Katen Kyōkotsu had wanted him to enter the shadows. Maybe because of the Ise sword, but Shunsui was honest enough with himself to know that she'd probably been wanting him to do it for some time.

So, it stood to reason that there was something here that she needed him to see or find or experience.

And Katen Kyōkotsu was not subtle. When he'd been developing his other techniques, she'd often put him into position where Shunsui had no choice but to understand the rules of her new game or die. 

Was this then another technique? He'd always assumed that the shadows were just a barrier, that the garden was all of his inner world, but what if he was wrong. What if the shadows were a part of it too?

What would be the rules of this game?

Kimodemeshi, a test of courage? That didn't really have any rules besides simply holding one's nerve and travelling through, which didn't seem like Katen Kyōkotsu at all. 

Kagome Kagome then. Shunsui might not be blindfolded but he was effectively blind, and he could definitely sense others around him. In the children's game, he'd be expected to call out the name of the child behind him, but Katen Kyōkotsu's games were never so benign.

A voice, like a laugh but too distant to be anything but an echo flowed around him.

Was he meant to chase the voices? Hunt them down?

Well, he couldn't do that with his eyes open, now could he.

Letting them fall closed was akin to opening them, in that the world came alive around him as his reikaku, his spirit sense, kicked into top gear.

"There you are," he said, finally able to trace the creature that had been hunting him. He lunged, too late! It was gone, and behind him now! Spin, duck, parry and this time there was a clash of blades. Gone again. Shunsui stayed low, ready, searching for where they would come from next.

Behind! Another spin, a step back, the whoosh of air past his face. And nothing.

How was it doing that? It was like the creature was moving through the shadows.

From the side this time! Shunpo; two, three steps and stop. Could it move this far?

A sharp pain stabbed through his side. Shunsui bit back a cry and lurched away from it, aware of heat bleeding into his shitagi. Another inch and that would have been nasty.

The rules said he had to hunt. Currently, he was being hunted. If he wanted to survive, he had to change the flow of the fight. Get on top. But how?

The shadows. 

To his spirit sense, they were invisible. But only because they were the same as everywhere else. That was thing about a shadow. It wasn't solid. It had no edges. In the darkness, all shadows were one shadow.

But still echoes of something real.

_That_ was what he needed to do!

Every one of Katen Kyōkotsu's games demanded the tightest reitsu control, so it was a work of moments for Shunsui to flatten his into background resonance. Immediately he felt himself slip, as the shadows, like the current in a river, snatched at him, trying to make him one of them. Letting go was much harder. But he did it, falling into the flow and feeling it take him. And now - now - he could sense everything, everywhere the shadows touched. The garden, the tree, Katen Kyōkotsu herself, and right over there- Got you! 

He moved, cutting through the current and came up behind the 'monster', blades darting out to stab, through and through.

The very moment he should have made contact, the world vanished and he was waking up in the night-darkened dojo, swords crossed over his lap. The pain in his side was sharp enough that he knew it had been no dream.

Shunsui puffed out a huff of air and rubbed his face with both hands. That had been different alright, though he could see how incredibly useful it was going to be as a battle technique. 

If he could use it in the real world.

Standing up, Shunsui lowered his swords to his sides, focused on the shadows at his feet, and dropped into them.

#

It wasn't easy finding time to sit jinzen. The 13th was an exceedingly well run division, but that, Jūshirō discovered, was mostly down to the skills of the departing lieutenant, Osanmi Aiko. She'd taken over the vast majority of the day to day operating, allowing the captain to use what little strength he had left training the soldiers. Something that, Jūshirō had to admit, he did extremely well.

Isoarashi's methods reminded Jūshirō strongly of Genryusai-sensei, which made sense. They were contemporaries after all, and both predated the Academy and the Gotei, so it was possible they'd had the same teachers too.

Rough affection, strong discipline and an unbreakable sense of honour were its central tenants, along with copious amounts of hard work and the kind of practice schedule that saw every soldier up with the sun and drilling in the training yards. It was hard, but it worked. Jūshirō had never met a more dedicated, and happier, bunch of shinigami in his life.

It was an eye-opening change from his experiences at the 9th. There Katagawa had set rules, and he'd expected his shinigami to follow them, to their own or their fellow soldiers' detriment if necessary. Sometimes even to the detriment of the division as a whole or so it seemed to Jūshirō.

Isoarashi, on the other hand, set hardly any rules at all. And they didn't seem to be needed. To Jūshirō's inexperienced eye, it was as though, because their captain cared about them so obviously and so deeply, the 13th cared about each other. They worked hard for each other, encouraged each other, and the whole taken together was a kind of upward thrust of improvement that Jūshirō couldn't help but immediately feel proud of being a part of.

None of which meant his paperwork load was any less. 

Though that should improve when the third seat got back from sick leave. 

Glaring balefully at the stack of documents he still had to read and sign, Jūshirō tried hard not to wish for non-sick subordinates so he could get enough hours off to sit jinzen. He'd been at the 13th for two months now and was getting so desperate that he'd starting sleeping with Sōgyo no Kotowari in the bed beside him in the hopes of something happening. Just this morning when he'd woken, there'd been a definite hint of salt and ozone in the air, so maybe that meant he was making some kind of progress. 

"I have the latest Living World patrol reports for you to check over, lieutenant," a cheery voice announced as Jūshirō's office door pulled back.

It was Kotetsu Takane, joint fourth seat and all around champion administrator. Without him, Jūshirō knew he'd have already gone under for the third time. "Put them there," Jūshirō said, before realising the spot he'd pointed to was where he'd been planning on stacking the completed requisition forms he was about to start on. "No, actually stick them over there instead." He pointed to his side table where he, theoretically, sat to take lunch. Since breaking for lunch was a distant dream, and eating normally consisted of anything he could hold in one hand while he read and stamped with the other, he might as well put the table to good use.

Kotetsu did as he was told, and then hung around, apparently watching. Jūshirō bore it for a couple of minutes, before putting aside his brush, looking up and saying, "Is there something more you wanted, Kotetsu-yonseki?"

"Um, I just… I wanted to give you this." With an awkward bow, he held out an envelope in both hands.

Curious, Jūshirō took it and almost whistled his appreciation. The paper was beautiful, smooth and white, with a flying heron watermark across the front. Possibly not the best choice for giving to someone whose zanpakutō was two fishes, but Jūshirō wasn't about to belabour the point.

"Do you mind if I…?" he asked, holding up the letter.

Kotetsu blushed bright red and bobbed another bow. "Please do. I- I kind of need an answer before tonight."

An invitation of some kind then. Jūshirō slid a finger along the seal and unfolded the paper.  
It was indeed an invitation, to a birthday party. A second birthday, no less, of one Kotetsu Isane. 

"She's our first -well, only really, since we haven't got any other children - but we'd - that is, my wife and I - we'd really like you to come, if you want to. It's nothing special, just people from the division and some family so, if you don't, that's okay too. I mean, you're so busy, I'd totally understand if you couldn't-

"I'd love to come," Jūshirō put in before Kotetsu could tie himself into even more knots.

"-spare the time- Really?"

Kotetsu looked so surprised that Jūshirō couldn't help but laugh a little. "If you want me there, I'd be honoured to come. I adore children."

A huge smile spread over Kotetsu's face and he stood taller, which might have brought him up to Jūshirō's shoulder had they both been standing. "So do I. I mean, what's the point otherwise, right?"

Thinking about his own family, Jūshirō almost agreed. And then Sōsuke-kun's face appeared in his mind's eye, along with little Nanao-chan's and the others, all farmed out to various locations around Rukongai. To Onigawa-sensei or families that he and Shunsui knew, or at least knew of, but even so, Jūshirō's conscience pricked him. Because, if he really cared about children as much as he'd been about to claim, he wouldn't have allowed that to happen. Instead, after rescuing the children from the Maggot's Nest, he'd have retired from the Gotei. His family, sprawling as it was, made a passable living from its seas, and certainly enough to support Jūshirō and a few extra children. But Jūshirō had been unwilling to give up his dreams, which he supposed just made him selfish.

That night, he dreamt of the children and the next day, when he stopped on his way to work to buy a small gift for the birthday girl, he made sure to buy enough to send out to those he'd banished to the Rukongai.

#

Since Kotetsu and his wife lived in married quarters, they'd chosen to hold the party at a nearby ryokan. Jūshirō managed to arrive late, having dropped the results of his day's labours at the 1st on the way, and quickly found himself swept up in the celebrations as the child, a sturdy little girl with blue grey hair, stumped around the assembled gathering demanding hugs and treats with equal enthusiasm.

As Kotetsu had said, it was a mostly 13th division affair, with a sprinkling of family from both Kotetsu's side and his wife's thrown in for good measure. The early part of the evening, the part Jūshirō had missed, had been the meal. Now, there was mostly drinking. Somehow along the way Jūshirō managed to get dragged into a game of hanafuda, at which he was an average player at best. Worse, jugs of sake were being passed around between hands, and there was no real way to either avoid pouring for others, or drinking what others had poured for him. On the back of little food and even less sleep, it wasn't long before the cards began swimming in front of Jūshirō's eyes. So, when the last of the cards had been scooped up and Sannai-san declared the winner, Jūshirō excused himself and went to find Kotetsu to make his apologies for leaving early.

But instead of Kotetsu, he found Isoarashi-taichō instead. 

The captain was making his way across the garden of the ryokan towards a building set back from the others. He had a bag in one hand and was moving slowly, leaning heavily on a stick as he walked. 

Without giving it too much thought, Jūshirō hopped down off the walkway and hurried to help. "Want me to carry that for you, taichō?" he asked, coming up alongside his captain. 

Isoarashi must have felt him coming since all Jūshirō got was a slight side eye. "I'm not quite that decrepit yet," he said, then gave a Jūshirō a better once over. "Though by the looks of you, you could do with coming with me anyway."

"Where're you going?" Jūshirō asked, and that might have come out a little slurred. The fresh air, which had initially seemed to clear his head, was now making him feel even more intoxicated. 

"The sento," Isoarashi said, pointing ahead of them towards a door with the telltale kana 'yu' on it. 

"Ah," Jūshirō hesitated. "There was some sake-"

Isoarashi swiped at Jūshirō legs with his stick. "I'll make sure you don't fall asleep. Now hop to, and open the door for me." 

The hot water was absolutely glorious, and the washing beforehand had definitely sobered Jūshirō up a little. If for no other reason than it had allowed him to see his captain nude for the first time. Now he finally understood why the old man moved so slowly. His feet were so swollen that his ankles were hardly distinguishable from his legs.

"It's my liver," Isoarashi told him as he scrubbed a yellow-tinted back. "Unohana's doing her best, but there's limits to what even she can achieve when there's this much damage."

Now they sat beside each other in the pool, steam rising around them into the cool night air. Somewhere in the distance, Jūshirō could hear the sound of the party still going on, but it seemed miles and years away right now.

"How long does she think you've got?" he asked, the remains of the sake loosening his tongue beyond even the usual relaxation of hierarchy that bathing allowed. He felt sleepy and comfortable.

Beside him, Isoarashi grunted. "Fifty years, maybe a century, but no more. And I've no wish to spend all of them in the Gotei, so you'd best get a move on with that bankai of yours, young man."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen with the amount of free time I've got," Jūshirō muttered, his eyes sliding closed. For a moment, he didn't notice the silence beside him becoming pointed, then he rehashed what he'd just said, realised how incredibly rude it had sounded and shot to his feet, eyes flying open. "Ah, that is, I'll get on it right away, sir."

But Isoarashi didn't look cross. If anything, he looked curious. "You need more time to sit jinzen? I was given the impression it was already a done deal."

"Um…" Jūshirō clutched his towel to his groin. "Not as such."

"But you have manifest your zanpakutō spirit. You have some idea what your bankai will be. You have the tacit agreement that it will be yours soon."

"Um…" A sick feeling started to curdle in Jūshirō's stomach. "Not… really?"

Now Isoarashi was starting to look annoyed. "You lied."

"Not exactly." Thoroughly exposed, in every sense of the word, Jūshirō went for broke. "I am close, sir, I'm sure I am. Sōgyo no Kotowari isn't like other zanpakutō, and so I was never expecting to get the things you're talking about before I got bankai. But I am close. I swear." It wasn't enough. He kept going. "But if I'd told Genryusai- Um… sōtaichō-sama the truth, I'd have had to take joint fourth seat at the 7th and I swear, I can do this. I just need more time. I just need enough time to sit jinzen." It ended on a plea. Jūshirō could hardly bear to hear it in his own voice, but there it was. The truth. For good or for ill. 

Forcing himself to keep his eyes open, he stood there in the chill night air and braced himself for his captain's judgement. 

"Oh sit down, boy, do," Isoarashi said after a long moment. "You look ridiculous shivering there and I'm not about to dismiss you." He waited until Jūshirō sat down, before adding, "Though I'd be quite within my rights to do so."

"Yes, sir," Jūshirō replied, much cowed. "I am sorry, sir. I didn't mean to add to your stress when you're so ill."

"Dying, you mean. Don't beat around the bush. It's the truth and we both know it."

Truth or not, Jūshirō didn't feel comfortable naming it. Instead he said, "I'll miss you, when you're gone," and was surprised to realise that too was true. He might only have been working with Isoarashi for a couple of months but the old man had still had a huge impact on Jūshirō's life. For a start, he now knew exactly how he wanted to run his own division when he finally made captain.

They soaked in silence for a while. In fact, it wasn't until they got out and were drying off ready to get dressed that Isoarashi spoke again. "Out of all the possible candidates Eijisai put forward, do you know why I chose you, Ukitake-kun?"

It had been a very long time since Jūshirō had heard Genryusai-sensei's nickname. "No, sir. I didn't even know there were other candidates."

Isoarashi paused, towel across his shoulders and gave Jūshirō a look. "Well, there was that friend of yours from the 5th for a start," he said. "Not to mention Nanaguro from the 10th, though I think he would have been a bad fit for the 13th."

"I think he'd be more at home at the 11th, to be honest," Jūshirō put in before he could stop himself and then wished he hadn't. He really should leave the drinking to Shunsui. Whenever he tried it himself, it always seemed to lead to disaster. 

But Isorashi was smiling as he continued towelling himself dry. "You might be right there. I'll be sure to tell Kuruyashiki to look to his laurels." He tossed his towel into the corner and picked his shitagi out of his clothes basket. "No, there were definitely others, but I chose you because I thought our names being so close was a good omen."

Names? Winding his fundoshi, Jūshirō racked his brain trying to tie the names Isoarashi and Ukitake together and failed completely. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."

"Nor did I expect you do. Since you're missing a key part of the puzzle." Isoarashi gave a wheezy laugh. "My given name is Takeshiro."

"Oh!" Now it all made sense. 

"Though I'll grant you they do use different kanji."

"Which ones?" Jūshirō asked. His own name used simple, common kanji, for those sounds; bamboo for take and fourth son for shiro. He couldn't imagine that an old warrior like Isoarashi had such a pedestrian name. 

"Mountain castle," Isoarashi said, and this time his smile was more wistful, the fingers holding his hakama a little white knuckled. "My old teacher thought them appropriate for my height and bearing. Or so she said, the first time I beat her in a fair fight."

It hadn't been a parent who named him then. Jūshirō's heart gave a little squeeze as he pulled on his kosode. Had Isoarashi even had parents, or was he like the orphans of Rukongai were these days. Alone and having to fend for themselves.

He really had no idea what life had been like back when Isoarashi's generation were young. That kind of history wasn't taught at Academy, and Genryusai-sensei had rarely let anything slip. And as far as his own family went, well, fishermen were fishermen. Jūshirō was fairly sure nothing much had changed there for thousands of years.

He remembered talking to some of the old soldiers when he'd first signed on at the 6th, the first division he'd joined after he graduated. All their people had come up through the Kuchiki estates, drawn from likely looking children on farms and at breweries who'd been sent to the lord for potential guards. And the seated officers, to a man, had been nobility. Ukitake included, though he'd not realised that when he'd first applied. 

It had been much the same across the whole Gotei. Non-noble officers were a distinct minority, though it was changing, slowly, as divisions stopped accepting people from outside the system and took only Academy graduates instead. It was useful having recruits who could already read and write and handle a sword. 

As far as Jūshirō knew, the only division who still allowed new recruits to join by proving their prowess in combat was the 11th. Which was why he'd earmarked Nanaguro as more suitable for them than the 13th. 

Doing up his hakama, Jūshirō flushed at the memory of the comment. It had been unbecoming of him as an officer to say such a thing. It was hardly Nanaguro's fault that he came from so far out in Rukongai that, at one time, the only way he would have been able to join the Gotei was by fighting his way in. 

"What if I promoted Kotetsu," Isoarashi said suddenly, making Jūshirō jump and almost drop his tabi. "As joint third seat, he'd be able to take a lot of that paperwork off your hands. Would that give you enough time to work on your bankai?"

Jūshirō stared at his captain, now fully dressed and looking far more his rank. He felt like kissing the man. Or possibly bursting into tears. "That would be amazingly helpful," he gushed instead. "All I need is one day a week, and a couple of early evenings, and I promise you, sir, I'll have bankai within the year." It was a promise he'd made before, and just like last time, he intended to keep it.

Rather than answer, Isoarashi turned and began making his way out of the sento. Jūshirō grabbed their stuff and hurried to catch up.

#

Kotetsu received notice of his promotion with all the calm of a whirlwind and spent the next several days running around the division apologising to everyone for getting to third seat before them. As far as Jūshirō could tell, it was all taken in good spirit. Kotetsu was well-liked by the troops and so the promotion was popular too.

Of course, popularity wasn't everything. Nor could it be. Even Isoarashi had to put his foot down every now and again, and that week saw Jūshirō's first encounter with that side of his captain too. 

The 13th's primary responsibility was policing the current Living World jūreichi, which, thanks to its high concentration of spiritual energy, always attracted more than its fair share of powerful hollows. It also tended to have an unfortunate effect on its human residents too, with a few developing the ability to sense spiritual beings, including shinigami. So, when one patrol was reported for deliberately 'haunting' a spiritually aware human during their duty shifts, the captain took immediate action. 

Not fast enough to quash all the rumours, of course, since gossip was the life-blood of the Gotei, and so Jūshirō already knew the excuses the patrol was planning to use once they got in front of the captain. The human had been a bad person. Violent towards their family and dishonest in their dealings. The patrol's actions had been a harmless punishment aimed at trying to get them to change their ways. 

All of which was perfectly reasonable, and so it was with the expectation of a major fight that Jūshirō escorted the mostly unrepentant patrol towards Isoarashi's office. 

The captain was sitting tailor style behind his desk and, instead of shouting, he simply put aside his brush and levelled his considerable attention on the miscreants. They shifted nervously beneath his gaze, though their heads stayed up and their chests remained inflated with pride and bravado. 

Jūshirō almost felt sorry for them as the minutes ticked by, until eventually even he was starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence. It was only then that Isoarashi spoke, his tone level and entirely calm. "I'm not interested in excuses. Nor do I want explanations. Whatever your reasons for attacking this human, your behaviour has brought shame on this division."

With those simple words, he undercut every argument the patrol could have made. The fight went out of them like water from a broken barrel and, to a one, their eyes closed and their chins dropped.

"I expect better of shinigami I have trained myself," Isoarashi continued. "Obviously, I did not train you as well as I thought. This will be remedied immediately. As of tomorrow, you will be reassigned to new teams and returned to basic drills. Once you have proved that you are capable of performing to the high standards expected of the 13th division, you will be allowed to resume patrols of the Human World. Do you understand."

It wasn't really a question. Still, all four shinigami snapped to attention with a, "Yes, captain, sir," and then dropped into deep bows.

To Jūshirō's surprise, Isoarashi climbed painfully to his feet and returned their bow. "I promise I will train you better in the future," he said, without a trace of irony in his voice at all.

"And we promise to work harder to understand what it means to be 13th," the patrol chorused back. 

"Then you may go."

And that, apparently, was that. The much chagrined group scurried from the room and, despite Jūshirō expecting some kind of defensive commentary the moment the door closed, seemed to stay silent as they hurried down the corridor. At least, all he could hear was the soft thud of tabi on wood.

"You're surprised."

Jūshirō turned to see Isoarashi sitting back down, and hurried to help. Isoarashi waved him off, saying, "Get the tea things instead. You have the look of a man with questions."

It was true. Jūshirō had no idea how Isoarashi had managed to defuse the situation so easily. Back at the 9th, Katamura would have harangued those shinigami for breaking the rules, and they would have left resenting them, and most likely him as well. 

As he heated the kettle and prepared the pot, Jūshirō tried to work his way through what was different. It all came back to that sense of collective responsibility again, he was sure, and the idea that the 13th belonged to all of them, not just the captain. 

That wasn't an idea that was encouraged amongst the Gotei, as far as Jūshirō knew. Academy taught that each captain was a law unto themselves and that, so long as the greater laws of Seireitei weren't broken in the process, pretty much anything went. Jūshirō remembered at least one man being flogged almost to death when he'd been at the 6th. For stealing, if he remembered rightly, though it was over two hundred years ago now, so he couldn't be entirely sure.

Carrying the filled pot back into the office, he placed it on the side table, and opened the cupboard beneath to take out a bowl

"Get one out for yourself," Isoarashi said. He had his head buried back in papers again, hopefully the finalized field reports Jūshirō had given him yesterday. Some paperwork had to have the captain's stamp before it went back to the 1st.

Jūshirō poured for them both, then placed the bowls on the desk before sitting down himself. Isoarashi kept reading for a few moments, then sighed, rubbed his forehead and sat up, sliding the papers to one side. He looked tired and Jūshirō felt yet another twinge of guilt that he still hadn't managed to sit jinzen yet. It had been almost a week since their conversation at the onsen. He had to do better, re-organise things, make the time, somehow. 

As if he was reading Jūshirō's mind, Isoarashi said, "Take the day off tomorrow. Kotetsu will do better if you're not looking over his shoulder and it will give the others a chance to get used to reporting to him and not you."

"Yes, sir." Jūshirō nodded a bow over his tea bowl. "Thank you, sir. I promise I shall spend every moment working on my bankai."

"You'd better," Isoarashi grumped at him, then, after taking a sip of tea, said, "Well, go on then. You obviously have things you want to ask."

Just like that? Feeling more than a little intimidated, Jūshirō put down his tea and mentally flailed for an acceptable question. Eventually, when no others sprang to mind, he said, "Was the 13th always like this? So…" he paused, trying to find the right term.

"Self-contained?" Isoarashi suggested.

"Maybe." It still wasn't quite right, but it at least gave Jūshirō a place to start. He explained, briefly, how his old captain would have handled the incident with the patrol, and the likely fallout from it. Finishing with a somewhat plaintive, "And all you had to do was be disappointed in them."

Isoarashi looked at him over his tea bowl. "Is that the only lesson you took away from the interview?"

"No." Jūshirō bit his lip. "You apologised to them." That bit had shocked him. He couldn't imagine Katamura, or Kuchiki-taichō, ever apologising to their soldiers when it was the soldiers that had done something wrong. 

Actually, he couldn't imagine them ever apologising to their soldiers at all. He said as much to Isoarashi.

The old captain chuckled and put down his tea bowl. "I remember Kuchiki Hiromasa as a hot-headed young whipper-snapper. That boy put his mother through agonies before he grew a sense of responsibility." He shook his head, obviously still stuck deep in the past. "Obstinate too. And wouldn't be told. That boy set his heart on something, and that was it. He'd do it, whatever his family might have to say on the subject."

"But Ginrei-san seems so respectful," Jūshirō protested, thinking about the quiet man who followed his father like a silent shadow, his grey-streaked hair severely restrained by the kenseikan.

"Aye, and always was. Hasn't half the power of his father either. I daresay, if he comes to a captaincy, he'll be much like Katamura, a stickler for the rules, and it'll be to the detriment of his men. A leader who rules by force or fear alone is never going to be a good one, whether he be king or captain."

Jūshirō took a sip of his tea, letting that thought percolate for a while. Genryusai-sensei was widely respected for his power, but he wasn't really feared. Which seemed strange on the face of it, because he was all about the rules. 

Though he did apply them fairly. And consistently, unlike say Central 46, who were far scarier. They were so unpredictable. The currents of politics could turn policy on its head in a moment, leaving those who'd been swimming with the tide suddenly fighting against it. Jūshirō suspected that Shunsui's friend, Ise-san, was one such. 

They also governed by force. The sōkyoku wasn't the Gotei's chosen method of execution, it was theirs. So, did that mean Isoarashi thought Central were bad leaders too? 

Disturbed by the direction his thoughts were taking, Jūshirō returned to the beginning and tried again, this time applying what Isoarashi had said to the 13th. 

At the outset of the conversation, Jūshirō had asked Isoarashi whether the 13th had always been the way is was today, and Isoarashi had answered him by drawing attention to the leadership styles of Katamura and Kuchiki-taichō and how that affected the behaviour of their divisions. 

Which made the implied answer to Jūshirō's question about the 13th, 'only for as long as Isoarashi had been captain.' 

Jūshirō closed his eyes, biting back a sigh of frustration. That explanation was circular. It still gave him no clue as to how Isoarashi had created the mutually respectful attitude in the first place.

Or had it. Katamura harangued people when they broke the rules. Isoarashi simply expressed disappointment. Kuchiki-taichō would never apologise to his men. Isoarashi did, even for things that in all honestly couldn't possibly be his fault. Was that where the roots of the 13th's magic lay? Had Isoarashi won over those first shinigami and every single one since by putting himself right there with them. 

By taking personal responsibility for every slip or doubt or fault or lie of any shinigami under his command? 

Jūshirō's respect for the old man, which had already been huge, increased exponentially. 

To expose himself like that, for centuries without end, simply to provide the safety net his people needed to grow, was possibly the bravest and most foolish thing Jūshirō had ever heard of. But it worked. He'd just seen evidence of that with his own eyes.

Coming back to himself, Jūshirō realised two things. First, his tea had grown cold, and second, Isoarashi was watching him very carefully. 

Jūshirō huffed, put his bowl down, and bowed as deeply as he could over his knees. "Thank you for the lesson, taichō-san." 

Isoarashi inclined his head. "Be warned, it doesn't always work. I've had persistent bad eggs as much as the next captain and sometimes the only thing you can do is bring in the guard. But, for the most part, those who sign on with the Gotei do it because they want to belong to something greater than themselves. All you really have to do, is make sure they feel wanted in return."

Jūshirō bowed again. "I will do my best to carry your legacy forward, sir."

"I know you will, boy, I know you will." Isoarashi chuckled, a twinkle gleaming in those yellowed rheumy eyes. "You're a man after my own name, after all."

#

It was gone midnight and the wind was rising by the time Jūshirō made it back to his rooms. Some kind soul had closed the storm shutters so all he needed to do was light the lantern. After struggling to find the small kidō seal in the pitch blackness, he eventually managed to switch the lantern on and it burst into light, illuminating Jūshirō's neatly folded futon and casting the corners of the room into deep shadow.

Shadows that moved.

With a startled gasp, Jūshirō thrust out his palm, the workings of a hōrin already on his lips, only to recognise who it was lurking there in the darkness. 

"Shunsui?" Slumped there in the dark, swords across his lap, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he looked dead. "Shunsui!"

Jūshirō darted forwards, for one awful moment fearing the worst, but when his hand grasped Shunsui's shoulder, Shunsui jerked slightly like he was waking up and raised his head. Not dead then, but perhaps dead drunk?

"Jū -chan," he croaked, squinting up at Jūshirō. "I think there's people watching us from the shadows."

Jūshirō was about to shoot back some scathing retort about having drunk enough to start hallucinating, when he got a proper look at Shunsui's face. A couple of weeks ago, at the last captain's meeting, he'd been fine, but whatever he'd been up to in the meantime hadn't treated him well. There was a dark bruise on his forehead, a bloody split in his bottom lip and he was far too pale. There was also no smell of alcohol on his breath.

So, instead of remonstrating, Jūshirō sat down beside his best friend and said, "How about you start at the beginning."

What came out was a wild tale that veered from enrollment ceremonies and being threatened with disownment, to travelling through shadows and fighting off mysterious assassins - who turned out to be Shunsui's zanpakutō spirit in disguise?

"Not disguise. It's another part of her. She broke off a bit to hide the sword."

"I see," Jūshirō said, not really understanding at all. "And is that the person who's watching us from the shadows?"

"No." Shunsui shook his head tiredly and slumped against Jūshirō's shoulder. He seemed exhausted, poor thing. But then Katen Kyōkotsu always had been able to make him work harder than anyone else. "I haven't actually seen anyone, or heard them. It just feels like there's someone there." Shunsui frowned, shaking his head again. His unshaven beard made a scratching sound against Jūshirō's shihakushō. "You probably think I'm mad."

"Not in the slightest," Jūshirō reassured him. "I know you when you're on the verge of losing it and this isn't the same at all. However," --he patted Shunsui's thigh and stood up, offering him a hand-- "I do think you're over-tired and in need of a drink. Not sake!" he added quickly, before Shunsui could get the wrong idea.

"Not sake," Shunsui agreed with a chuckle, letting Jūshirō haul him to his feet. "If I drink anything stronger than tea, I'll be asleep before you can count to hundred, and I'm running drills at seven in the morning."

"Ah, a late start," Jūshirō joked. 

As lieutenant, he had access to a small kitchen area, so quickly had the kettle boiling for tea. Shunsui found a place to sit near the fire and had his hands out towards it, warming them. His swords were still across his knees, and by their shape, Jūshirō realised, still in shikai.

"Is that really necessary?" Jūshirō asked as he handed over a bowl of tea.

Shunsui glanced up inquiringly, and then down at his lap. His face fell. "Ask her," he said, somewhat bitterly. "She's not let me seal them for a week now. Something about building up stamina."

Jūshirō winced, for once feeling grateful his zanpakutō was so different. No wonder Shunsui looked so exhausted. Then a thought occurred. "Is it for bankai?" 

"I hope so." Shunsui took a swig of steaming tea, winced and swallowed anyway. "If she puts me through all this and I don't end up with bankai, I might just take her to the blacksmiths and get her melted down."

Then again, maybe the pair of them kind of deserved each other. 

Jūshirō took a careful sip of his own scalding hot tea and sat down too. A moment later, he felt Shunsui's eyes on him, and turned just far enough to return the look. He knew exactly what this was going to be about. "What?"

Shunsui didn't disappoint. "I was just wondering how yours was going. I've practically given you a guided tour of mine."

"It's going," Jūshirō replied, staring straight ahead again. The wind was really getting up outside, rattling at the shutters. "Are you going to be okay heading home in this?"

"I'll go through the shadows. And stop changing the subject. We were talking about your bankai. People keep saying that Isoarashi's ill and that you're supposed to be taking over within the year. Are you really that close?"

The question sounded somewhat plaintive and Jūshirō felt an immediate prick of guilt. If that was what Shunsui had heard, no wonder he was feeling fed up. He must think that Jūshirō was hiding things from him.

Sighing, he lowered his bowl to his knees and stared down into it. "I only got the post at the 13th because I told them I was," he said, not bothering to beat around the bush. 

"And are you?"

Jūshirō shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea. But if it's at all possible, I have to make it happen." He glanced up. "The rumours are right about Isoarashi-taichō." Briefly, he outlined what he knew about his captain's illness, and what had happened at the onsen. 

Shunsui listened impassively until he came to the end and then grunted. "You're right. You owe him."

"I do. Which is why I'm going to spend all day tomorrow sitting jinzen."

Shunsui chuckled and patted his swords fondly. "What it is to have such demanding taskmasters, eh?" Putting his tea bowl aside, he leaned over and gave Jūshirō a kiss full on the lips. "And, I think that is my cue to leave. Will I see you next week?"

For their monthly get-together at the izakaya near the 5th. "I'll try," Jūshirō replied, "Though I'm not making any promises." He did genuinely enjoy their evening gossiping together, and sometimes later making love, but right now his other commitments were more important. 

"Fair enough." Shunsui heaved to his feet. As he stood, the shadows around the room gathered, and not in the ways they should have. "If you don't turn up, I'll just have to drink your share for you."

"Just make sure you're not dead on your feet first," Jūshirō shot back with a smile.

Shunsui flashed him a grin, inverted his swords so they both pointed at the ground, then, accompanied by Jūshirō's gasp of surprise, sank into the shadows and vanished without a trace.

Amazing! For a moment, all Jūshirō could do was sit, hands clasped in front of him, replaying the moment in his mind. The possibilities of such a technique in battle were astounding. Katen Kyōkotsu had always had some tricky abilities, but this one beat them all.

The visit also proved that Shunsui was working very hard on his bankai. In light of that, Jūshirō put aside thoughts of sleep, and decided to sit jinzen then and there. If he didn't, something may crop up in the morning, and he could not afford to waste this opportunity.

Having washed the tea bowls and pot and set them to dry, he fetched Sōgyo no Kotowari from their stand, retreated to his living room, and sat down in the middle of the floor. With the sword across his knees, it was a simple matter of relaxing and dropping into his inner world.

The moment he opened his eyes, he knew something was different. There was a quality to the darkness where before there'd been only nothingness. And he could feel his body. He existed. In this non-place where before there had been nothing except Mimihagi, there was now something, and it included Jūshirō.

_We are trying to become other-than. The doll showed us the how._

Something slammed into Jūshirō from behind. Hard. He gasped, realised as he sank that he'd been floating, and surfaced, coughing up water. Splashes and chittering laughter echoed in his ears.

Jūshirō laughed too, his heart soaring. "Sōgyo no Kotowari!" he yelled, revelling in being able to hear and feel and breathe in his inner world for the very first time. There was still nothing to see, but he didn't care. This was progress. This was everything he could have dreamed of and more.

With work, this could become bankai.


	3. Unravelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui makes a strange discovery.

"Taichō-san." Shunsui ducked his head respectfully as he sank into seiza beside the captain's work table. 

Ayaoni didn't reply. They remained seated, head bowed, elbows on the desk and fingers steepled in front of their face. The position pulled the cloth mask, which resembled the ones worn by the kidō corps, tight enough to reveal a tantalising glimpse of Ayaoni's features. Shunsui politely averted his eyes.

And took the opportunity to have a good look at his captain's inner sanctum instead. He didn't get in here often; Ayaoni wasn't in the habit of inviting people into their office, not even Shunsui. Meetings were always conducted in the anteroom.

It was decorated in the classical style, and was bright in the early afternoon sun, clean and immaculately tidy, which was pretty much what Shunsui had expected. The shamisen in the corner wasn't, and Shunsui found himself trying to remember if he'd ever heard music coming from this office.

He hadn't, though, now he was actually in here, that wasn't so much of a surprise since the room also had a silencing kidō built into it. Honestly, Shunsui wouldn't have recognised the seals if their family home hadn't had something similar embedded in the frame. It was an old bakudo technique, one that went back to pre-Gotei days, that could be turned on and off with a simple incantation. 

This one was currently switched on. Whatever Captain Ayaoni wanted to speak about, they didn't want to be overheard. 

Finally Ayaoni took a deep breath and raised their head. Their eyes were serious and dark above the mask. "Kyoraku-kun, I have some news that will need to be handled extremely carefully." 

That… did not sound good. Shunsui's stomach stooped into a dive, his mind racing through the possibilities of Jūshirō being in trouble, to something being wrong with Yama-jii, or maybe even one of the kids out in Rukongai. 

Had Onigawa-sensei decided to make a formal complaint about Sōsuke-kun, like she'd threatened after the last incident. If those manacle reinforcements he'd sent out with Yadōmaru hadn't worked, Shunsui had no idea what to try next. 

"Kuchiki Hiromasa was found dead in his bath this morning. His throat had been cut."

"What!?" Taken totally by surprise, Shunsui was halfway to rising before he ran up against Ayaoni's reiatsu.

"I see you grasp both the importance of this, and how absolutely vital it is to keep the details on a need to know basis."

Kuchiki Hiromasa had been a True First clanhead, as well as a senior Gotei captain. That someone had done this - had been _able_ to do this - was mind-boggling.

Shunsui's ass hit his heels again. "Captain." 

"Onmitsukidō have taken charge. The Kuchiki servants and personal guard are being put to question as we speak, and Ginrei has his son-in-law interrogating the rest of the division. However, rumours are already beginning to circulate, and an air of unrest is rising at the 6th. There is talk amongst the rank and file of Kuchiki-sama's death being a sanctioned assassination, some plot to remove a troublesome captain."

Troublesome? Why would anyone think that of Kuchiki Hiromasa. Though on every other level, the theory made sense. To get inside the Kuchiki's guard like that would have taken either incredible skill, or the utmost trust. Neither of which were easily available to the average shinigami. The whole thing stank of something both high level and underhanded. 

In other words, it had Central's filthy fingerprints all over it. 

But Ayaoni hadn't finished. "These rumours are where our interest in the whole affair both begin and end."

"Captain?"

"The sōtaichō is concerned that dissent at the 6th will spread to other divisions. I want to you to keep your ears and eyes open amongst our own people. We cannot risk this spiralling out of control."

Mutiny. Rebellion. In other words the very things that would, maybe, allow them to carry out Jūshirō's plan to get to the Royal Realm. If only they were ready.

"Captain." Shunsui nodded a perfunctory bow. "I will do my best." And if he spent the rest of his time working on a way to exploit it, well, that was his business and no one else's.

"Of course you will. I would expect nothing less," Ayaoni said. They paused, just long enough for Shunsui to start to rise, before adding. "Though, please do not neglect your paperwork in the meantime. Ninth seat Yadōmaru might have an excellent hand, but she is not supposed to be signing documents on your behalf."

She wasn't supposed to have been caught. Shunsui mentally reshuffled his schedule to accommodate his paper-stacked desk, grimaced as virtually every moment of bankai-time vanished, and bowed properly this time. "It won't happen again, taichō-san." 

"I am sure that it won't."

#

It was a good thing Katen Kyōkotsu had finally relented and let him reseal her or Shunsui would never have survived the next few weeks. As it was, he hardly slept, what with nights spent deep in jinzen, and days consumed stamping out fires of unrest amongst the troops as rumours about Hiromasa's death continued to proliferate and Onmitsukidō failed to make an arrest.

"Men's throats don't just cut themselves," Shunsui heard more than once as he dragged his tired carcass around izakayas and teahouses, listening in on groups of drunken shinigami, unable to do more than have the occasional sip of sake himself.

"Maybe the old bastard had it coming?" was something he heard as well, though much less often and only when he wrapped himself in shadows. His face was simply too well known for people to speak candidly in front of him otherwise.

But whoever the speaker, and whatever the sentiment, there was a common thread. How good could Onmitsukidō be, really, if they couldn't even find the killer of a True First clan-head.

It was a sentiment that Shunsui absolutely empathised with. Given motive and opportunity, he could have killed Kuchiki-taichō himself with Kagoni, and yet Onmitsukidō didn't even seem to know it existed. The perpetual fear he'd been living under, that somehow they knew about the Ise sword, and all about his and Jūshirō's plan for Mimihagi, slowly faded, replaced by the idea that one day it may actually succeed.

But little happened vis a vis the murder. Information did trickle in, though it was sparse and delivered only to help quell rumours. Unohana-taichō discovering a sedative poison in Kuchiki Hiromasa's body during the autopsy, briefly pointed the finger at her own division, until someone pointed out that the substance in question could be purchased in any of Seireitei's apothecary shops. 

Likewise, raised voices heard from the captain's rooms the night before the murder were quickly explained away when captains Warashita, 3rd division, and Hosogoshi, 2nd division, were revealed to have been playing cards with Kuchiki until the early hours. The clan head had apparently been in good spirits when they left.

Beyond that, there was little else. As the weeks dragged by, captains' meetings grew more and more tense. Shihōin-taichō was often absent, and when she did attend, it was with bruised eyes and bowed shoulders. She was taking the failure personally, Shunsui could tell, and the cost was damaging.

And there was never any time to speak to Jūshirō. The best they could manage was a hurried exchange of nods as they hugged the heels of their respective captains, but Shunsui reassured himself that Jūshirō at least looked well. The 13th seemed to be suiting him. Better than the 9th, if Shunsui was honest with himself, which had often seemed to bring with it the kind of political stresses that didn't suit Jūshirō's kindly nature at all.

Then, one morning, Shunsui woke to reports of violence. Not at the 5th, thank goodness, but the 11th. That, in itself was not uncommon; the 11th prided themselves in a no-holds barred approach to promotion and so scuffles were often breaking out amongst them, seated officers included; but, as information filtered in, it became clear that this time it was different.

In their attempt to find Kuchiki Hiromasa's murderer, Onmitsukidō had finally decided to utilize their new interrogation technique on an industrial scale, and for whatever reason, they'd chosen to start with the 11th.

Who hadn't taken it well. At all. 

"They've got some dumb idea it's because Kuchiki kept bad-mouthing their captain," confided Aikawa, the 9th division's fifth seat, as they watched his crowd containment unit forming up several hundred yards from where the bulk of the 11th's forces had gathered. "Some kind of revenge scenario. If you ask me, Kuruyashiki would have called the guy out himself if it bothered him that much."

Shunsui agreed. It was far more likely that Onmitsukidō had chosen the 11th because Kuruyashiki was currently out of Seireitei on a solo hollow hunting trip and so there was no one there right now with enough political clout to tell them to shove it. 

Though it was also true that it only took one idiot and the 11th were well known for their rather enthusiastic support of their captain. And just because the 11th specialised in melee-type zanpakutō, didn't mean someone there couldn't have the kind of shikai that would allow them to sneak unseen into the Kuchiki bathhouse. Shunsui knew that better than anyone. They'd just have to have kept it a secret.

One that the tenshintai would soon tear out of them.

And if Onmitsukidō didn't find it there, it was only a matter of time before they came for the rest of the Gotei. Shunsui included.

He and Jūshirō needed to get bankai. And they needed to do it fast.

Two days later, when Kuruyashiki had returned home and beaten some sense into the 11th, Shunsui broke the new curfew and headed for Jūshirō's. Despite getting much better at Kageoni, judging distance was still a problem, which made his trip to the 13th far more 'shadow to shadow' than 'door to door'. 

Still, it made getting around possible, if slightly hair-raising when he did things like leaving the shadows just as a patrol rounded the corner. 

With a stifled 'eep', Shunsui stepped back into the shadows and, still hearing the shinigami's startled cries, instinctively stepped back again.

The world went from shadowed-darkness to eerie-twilight and, suddenly, Shunsui was standing, not in an alley by the 12th, but beside a tall gable-ended building built of brick and stone. He turned, surprised and wondering where in Seireitei he could possibly have ended up, and found not only more of the buildings, but people as well. All dressed in white, they stood in ordered ranks, filling what seemed to be a public square. 

Fortunately for Shunsui, they were also focussed on a raised platform at the far end of the square. He was too far away to hear if anyone was speaking, but he could see the pennants at either end, both decorated with a symbol like a five pointed star.

But the strangest thing about all of it wasn't the unfamiliarity of the architecture or the weird uniformed people, it was the light. There was something _wrong_ about it, something slightly off, and it made all the hairs on the back of Shunsui's neck stand on end.

He took a hurried step back into the shadows and stood for moment, contemplating what the hell he'd just seen.

There were certain kidō which could manipulate time and space, but that hadn't felt like kidō at all. 'Ohana?' he asked, directing the question internally. 'Any ideas?'

_For once I will forgive your familiarity,_ Katen Kyōkotsu replied. _And no, I have no idea at all. The only thing I can tell you is that it was real._

Not a dream then, nor an hallucination.

There was a chance that it was something official that Shunsui simply don't know about. But it had also been a large number of unidentified people inside Seireitei only weeks after a captain had been murdered. 

Under the circumstances, Shunsui knew his duty.

Arriving unannounced in the sōtaichō's rooms almost got him fried, but luckily Sasakibe recognized him just in time to redirect the lighting blast into the wall. 

Shunsui gave the smoking hole a wary look and said, "Is Yama-jii still awake?"

"Of course I am," came the dulcet tones of his old teacher from the other room. A moment later the man himself appeared, Ryūjin Jakka in hand. He was dressed in a checked yukata short enough to show off his knees.

Shunsui looked away and tried to scrub the image from his brain. 

"Well, what do you want, boy? Don't just stand there pulling faces."

Briefly, Shunsui outlined what had happened, including confessing to his new shikai ability. In an ideal world he'd have left that bit out, but the rest of the story made no sense without it. 

When he came to the end, Yama-jii grunted. His sword was staff-shaped again and he was leaning on it heavily, his frown so deep that his brows looked as though they were about to take off. "White uniforms you say? Hmm. The stars on the pennants. Describe them to me."

"Honestly, they reminded me of throwing stars, except the ends of the blades were flat and almost hooked, instead of pointed," Shunsui said, doing the best he could and supplementing with hand gestures. 

Over by the door, Sasakibe made a quiet sound, and Yama-jii's brows managed to pull down even further. Whatever or whoever these people were, these two knew of them. 

Shunsui held his breath hoping to find out something useful, but all Yama-jii said was, "Perhaps your shadow-step took you further out than you expected."

Shunsui hesitated. He'd not even considered that possibility. "Like…into the Rukongai?" 

"Just so."

It would make more sense if all those people were out there rather than in Seireitei. Rukongai was definitely big enough. "Maybe?" 

"Or to another world."

That was even more startling. But hell butterflies could make the dangai vanish, so could the shadows do the same? Shunsui shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I have no idea. All I know is, I wasn't trying to go a long way, it just happened."

"I see." Yama-jii tapped his staff on the floor. "Then we are done. After you leave, you will speak of this to no one, and you will make no attempt to replicate the action. Do you understand?"

There was no arguing with that tone. Shunsui dipped into a bow. "Yes, sir." 

"From here, you will go straight to the 8th. There you will explain to the Onmitsukidō commander-in-chief why you saw fit to keep your zanpakutō's abilities secret from her while she was in the midst of a murder investigation."

Shunsui grimaced and bowed lower. It looked like he was going to get the tenshintai treatment whether he wanted it or not. Maybe he should take tips from Jūshirō about how to avoid getting charged with treason. 

But Yama-jii still wasn't finished. "In the unlikely event Shihōin ever decides to release you, you will immediately perform the same courtesy for your own captain." 

Ah. Oops. "Yes, sir." Now genuinely contrite, Shunsui dropped to one knee. As his superior officers, both Ayoani and Yama-jii had had the right to know about his zanpakutō. How else could they make the best use of the soldiers under their command. And he'd let them down, both of them. "I'm sorry, sir."

"As you should be. Now go."

It wasn't until Shunsui was halfway to the 8th, still worrying about what exactly Onmitsukidō was going to do to him, that he realised just how effectively Yama-jii had distracted him from thinking about the strange army. 

Man, but the old coot still had it, that was for sure.

At the next corner, he took a right instead of a left and stepped into the shadows. If he was quick, he could leave a note for Jūshirō before handing himself in.

#

As the door closed behind Toisaka and his entourage, Shunsui lifted his head from the floor and sat back on his heels with a silent sigh of relief. He'd survived interrogation. Somehow.

"Is your zanpakutō always like that?" Urahara asked into the ensuing silence.

Shunsui looked over just in time to see Katen Kyōkotsu vanish and the tenshintai doll tumble to the floor. "She has her moments," he said, rising and holding out his hands for his swords.

Urahara handed them back with a smirk up at Shunsui. "I thought Toisaka-gundanchō's head was going to pop off when she told him he had to play 'the Soul King says'."

That had been the point when Shunsui had hit the floor in abject terror that he was about to lose everything. Though Urahara was right; Toisaka's just-sucked-a-lemon expression was going to stay with him for a very long time. In his nightmares, probably.

But Katen Kyōkotsu's attitude aside, the process hadn't been as bad as Shunsui had feared. Toisaka's initial questions had been straightforward enough: had Shunsui ever been to the Kuchiki bathhouse, had Katen Kyōkotsu ever been drawn in the presence of Kuchiki Hiromasa and, of course, had she been used to cut Kuchiki Hiromasa's throat. 

The answer to all of those was a resounding no, which had only left the follow-ups. Those were less direct and revolved around clandestine meetings and secrets, specifically around Shunsui's new shikai. Katen Kyōkotsu had picked her way through all of them with aplomb and an insistence that Toisaka play her game if he wanted answers. He had, but not well enough, and so they'd come out on top. It probably helped that Katen Kyōkotsu was apparently just as invested in hiding the Ise sword as Shunsui was.

_'I didn't go to all the effort of tearing myself apart just to have some fool try and steal the thing'_ , she said snippily.

Shunsui sent her a deeply appreciative thanks, along with promises for more games later if she wished, before turning his attention to Urahara, who was wrestling with the tenshintai. "That's a very interesting gadget," he said, grabbing the doll before Urahara could drop it. 

Urahara glanced up at him. "Thanks! Though, I think the commander's disappointed it's not quite the panacea she hoped it would be."

Because some zanpakutō spirits lied, Shunsui thought, though didn't say so out loud. There was no point in confessing to things that might not be well known. Instead he offered a non-committal, "Really?"

Hoisting his box of tricks up under one arm, Urahara nodded. "We knew it wouldn't work on anyone with bankai going in," he said, "but it turns out not to be much use against the lower ranks either. Their zanpakutō spirits just aren't mature enough to communicate effectively and some of them just outright attack on sight." He grimaced, and Shunsui got the distinct impression that the experience had been unpleasant for everyone concerned. 

"You had to… fight back?" Shunsui hazarded, handing over the doll.

Urahara hesitated for a brief second before taking it. "Something like that," he said, then cheered up a little. "I suppose I'll just have to keep working on it. Till all the bugs are out of the system, anyway."

This would be the perfect moment to point out the tenshintai's other major bug. Shunsui kept his own council and simply held the door open for Urahara to leave. They exchanged quick goodbyes, before Urahara left and Shunsui was escorted off to his next appointment.

Shihōin-taichō was busy when he arrived. Abandoned by his guards, who seemed to think it was now safe to leave him unattended, Shunsui propped himself against the rail of the walkway outside her office and watched as shinigami, some in shihakushō and others in Onmitsukidō uniforms, hurried in and out, the ever opening and closing office doors revealing tantalising glimpses of the inner sanctum. 

Scribes, was the overall impression. Many of them with their heads down, all scribbling away as verbal reports were dictated to them, or working their way through stacks and stacks of paperwork. And he thought his own load was bad. Compared these poor souls, it was miniscule. 

The whole thing had gotten old and he was fighting to stay awake by the time Shihōin herself emerged. That golden hawkish gaze fixed on Shunsui immediately and she snapped, "You! Grab your stuff. You're seconded."

A temporary transfer? To the 8th? Or worse, Onmitsukidō. Shunsui's brain stumbled to a halt. What did Shihōin-taichō think she was doing? He wasn't that kind of Kyōraku, damn it. Plus, 'grabbing stuff' sounded permanent, and if it was, Ayaoni-taichō was not going to be happy. 

But, before Shunsui could do more than start worrying, the captain had moved away, leaving the 8th's lieutenant, Yoshiyuki, behind. Which hopefully answered part of the question.

When Yoshiyuki stopped in front of Shunsui and nodded a polite bow, Shunsui returned it, asking quietly, "This transfer, is it to the 8th or Onmitsukidō?"

Yoshiyuki gave him a look. "The captain wishes you to act as an aide-de-camp at the 8th."

Aide-de-camp. In Shunsui's experience that was just a posh-sounding term for a general administrative dogsbody. Joy. Heart sinking, he asked, "How long for?"

Yoshiyuki, who was already setting off to wherever it was they were going, glanced back at him. "Until further notice, at the captain commander's request."

Well, that put an end to any formal protests. Shunsui reorganized his priorities and said, "Then I hope you can put me up. It's a bit of trek from here back to the 5th every day."

"You can share my rooms. They're big enough."

That was true. But they were also jam-packed with junk. Overflow from storage rooms that had been repurposed as workspace, or so Yoshiyuki said.

Shunsui peered around the crowded room. "Where do you sleep?"

Yoshiyuki, box already in arm, gave him a look that seemed to suggest Shunsui was somehow at error for assuming he ever slept. "Currently, at my desk." 

Ouch. Even Shunsui could take a hint when it was that blatant. Grabbing a chest of his own, he helped Yoshiyuki make enough space for a futon. If this assignment ended up being as busy as he feared, it was going to be a nightmare trying to get bankai while he was here, but there were other ways of furthering ambition and, if he played his cards right, Shunsui was sure he could use this as a jumping off point for something. All he had to do was survive the experience without giving away any secrets. Which might be easier said than done considering who he'd be serving under.

"Bathing facilities are at the end of the walkway," Yoshiyuki said when they'd finished. "It's shared with the third and fourth seats, but they're all respectable people. Food is served in the mess. Usual meal times only."

That was very different from the 5th, which tended to keep odd hours since their duties could vary so widely. 

Something that could have been a smile if you squinted, passed over Yoshiyuki's face as he added, "Though the kitchen does make an excellent bento if you miss your mark."

"Good to know," Shunsui replied cheerfully. There wasn't a whole lot of point in being anything else. If Yama-jii wanted him here, then here he would stay until Yama-jii gave him permission to leave. "I'll go get my stuff then, shall I?"

#

When he got back to the fifth, Yadōmaru greeted him with a scowl fit to curdle milk and a pile of papers to sign. "I don't get how you always manage to wangle it," she said, plonking the papers down on top of the chest that Shunsui had just put near the doorway. "The rest of us are working our asses off and you get unlimited vacation time. That must be some family emergency, unless- " She fixed Shunsui with a dark look and her voice dropped to a whisper "Is it Sōsuke? Did the manacle reinforcements fail? Did he kill someone?"

Shunsui rolled his eyes. They'd told everyone he was getting time off? This was the trouble with the Gotei. If something could be done badly, they'd find the way. Handing back the pile of papers so he could open the chest and retrieve his stamp, he said, "It's not a vacation, it's a temporary transfer." He held up a finger, silencing his assistant. "And what have I said about talking about Sōsuke." 

She grimaced, and jammed the papers against her chest so she had a free hand to make a zipping motion across her lips. "So, what're you being seconded for?" she asked, changing the subject.

"To help with the investigation into Kuchuki-taichō's death," Shunsui told her, gesturing for the papers back and sitting down. 

Her eyes went round. "Onmitsukidō?" She didn't so much say it as mouth it.

"Nothing so glamorous, I'm afraid," Shunsui corrected, starting to flick through the pages. It was mostly requisitions that already had his name at the top. "I'm helping out the 8th's lieutenant, so I get to share quarters with him and do even more paperwork."

Yadōmaru snickered. "You sure they've not asked for the wrong guy?"

Shunsui did his best to look hangdog. "Unfortunately, yes." He skimmed and stamped his way through the pile before handing it back to her with a hopeful grin. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to go in my place, could I? The 8th has very pretty gardens."

She snorted. "I like my job here, thank you very much. Anyway, it'd meaning relocating and you know how Genta feels about me moving."

Yadōmaru 's long suffering boyfriend. Shunsui let his expression drop again. "Ah then, I suppose I have no choice but to take my leave."

A softish punch caught him on the upper arm. "Don't be like that, lieutenant. You'll still need to come see me to take stuff out for that kid of yours."

Shunsui let the assumption of his parentage of Sōsuke slide. When the lie fit so well, why try and change it. "You're right. Though life won't be the same without your constant nagging." 

That won him another chuckle. Yadōmaru turned towards the door, and eased it open with her foot. "I'll miss you too. And don't go getting on the wrong side of Shihōin-sama and ending up in Muken."

As the door closed behind her, Shunsui let his eyes slide closed and whispered, "I'm going to try very hard not to, Yadōmaru-chan, I promise."

#

It was typical of the way his life was going at the moment that Shunsui was just getting dressed after his bath when someone scratched on the door and called, "Kyoraku-fukutaichō, the captain will see you now."

Still, captains were captains, and even if the hour was bearing rapidly down on midnight, Shunsui was still supposed to jump when one told him to. With a barely bitten off sigh of regret for yet another lost night's sleep, he called back, "I'll be right there."

The sleeping yukata went back on the unrolled futon and Shunsui quickly pulled on his shihakushō. 

Rather than her office, Shihōin-taichō was waiting for him in the quad. Shunsui's guide melted away into the summer night leaving him alone with the captain, who turned a beady eye on him and said, "I need you to give me a demonstration."

"Of… what?" Shunsui replied hesitantly, not liking at all the direction this conversation was taking. If all she meant was his shikai, then he could do that easily. Anything more was going to be a problem.

One corner of Shihōin's mouth curled up in obvious amusement. "How did you get missed when Onmitsukidō was recruiting?" she said. 

"That I couldn't say, captain." It seemed impolitic to mention that he'd avoided them like the plague. Being martial arts experts, the Kyōraku had been affiliated with the Shihōin and Onmitsukidō for generations, and when Aunt Eimi had taken over the clan when Shunsui was still a boy, she'd continued the tradition. So joining Onmitsukidō would have meant reconnecting with his clan, and that held no interest for Shunsui at all. They'd shown exactly how they felt about him all those years ago when they'd given up trying to educate him themselves and handed him over to Yama-jii to deal with. 

But that was personal and not up for discussion with captains. Instead, Shunsui tried pointing out the more obvious problem. "I never was desperately good at hand-to-hand?"

Shihōin-taichō's smile grew wider, approving. "Good enough, I'll wager," she said, before turning away and gazing out into the night. "Did you know I have a silencing bakudo inked into my skin. All Onmitsukidō officers do, so you don't have to worry about being overheard."

That explained how they all moved so damn quietly. But didn't lay any of Shunsui's other worries to rest. He kept his silence.

A few moments later, Shihōin said, "I know about the place you found and I need you to show me how you found it."

Shunsui opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

What he had here was an impossible decision. Yama-jii, captain-commander of the Gotei 13, had given him a direct order not to try and find that strange city square again. And yet here was the head of Onmitsukidō, an organisation entirely separate from, but just as powerful as, the Gotei 13, giving him a direct order to the contrary. 

The silence grew. Beside Shihōin-taichō, Shunsui chewed on his lip. What he did here would affect everything, could even determine whether he lived or died, since to disobey a direct order was treason. But to obey one order was to disobey the other. He couldn't speak, he couldn't not speak. Not without some clue, some indication that he was allowed to.

Finally Shihōin-taichō said, "You're admirably closed-lipped. If it helps, Yamamoto-san asked me to look into this personally. He said to tell you that the yukata was a blue check pattern," --she glanced back at Shunsui-- "which I assume means something to you?"

What it meant was either the sōtaichō wanted him to co-operate, that Sasakibe was an informant, or that Onmitsukidō knew what Yama-jii slept in. Honestly, the latter was probably true, though why they'd try and use it to convince Shunsui to do this, he had no idea, unless this was some kind of loyalty test. 

But, since the sun had less chance of rising tomorrow than Sasakibe did of ever betraying his captain, that put the balance of probability firmly on Yama-jii giving this whole thing his blessing. Shunsui decided to take the stated permission at face value.

"This way," he said, setting off for the gate. "I came out of the shadows over near the 12th."

When they arrived in the alley, Shihōin-taichō demanded a quick demonstration of Kageoni before asking Shunsui to try and find the 'other place'. Shunsui did as he was told, stepped back into the shadows like he had the night before, and back again. 

The world stayed obstinately devoid of gabled roofs and clock towers.

He stepped forward, twice, and ended up face to face with the captain. She raised her eyebrows and when he shook his head, said, "Again."

Shunsui complied, and again found nothing but shadows. _'Ohana?'_ he tried, shooting the question inward more in hope than expectation.

_'This is where we were. I don't know why the place is gone.'_

That raised an interesting question. How stationary were the shadows? If Shunsui could move through them, could other things? Inanimate things. Like cities.

Stepping back out into the alley, he shook his head with some level of finality. "I'm sorry, captain, it's gone."

Shihōin gave him a level look. A judging one, like she was trying to work if he was lying or not. 

"Ask Katen Kyōkotsu if you want to," Shunsui said, raising his swords, though being very careful to keep the blades pointed down.

"Hmm," was the only reply he got from that suggestion, though she did stop staring at him and turn her attention to the wall behind him instead. "This is the backend of the 10th's training fields, isn't it."

Shunsui turned. To him it looked like virtually every other stretch of white plastered wall in Seireitei. The only reason he knew it was by the 12th was because that division's central tower loomed over the area, easily visible over the walls to the north.

Which, yes, that probably would make the 10th south of here. "Maybe?" he offered.

"I wonder." Moving close to the wall, Shihōin began running her hands across it, systematically, like she was searching for something. 

A secret door? Shunsui found that idea hard to swallow. Then the captain said, "Is it possible that it was some kind of senkaimon and you inadvertently passed through it?" 

That was one of the questions Yama-jii had asked, though not is as many words. Shunsui replied the only way he could. "Honestly, I don't know. Like I told the sōtaichō, Kageoni is a new technique. Katen Kyōkotsu and I are still learning what it can do."

"So it said in the interview." Shihōin's gaze dropped briefly to the swords now stuck through Shunsui's obi, before rising to meet Shunsui's eyes once again. "It's a curious ability for a sword that plays children's games."

"You never played at jumping over shadows as a child?" Shunsui asked, surprised.

The captain looked thoughtful. "I must have missed out on that one. As a Shihōin, shadows were something to be hidden in, not jumped over."

That made a lot of sense, since the Shihōin were, pretty much to a soul, Onmitsukidō. Shunsui tried to explain. "I remember playing it at my brother's house. He had a small growth of black pine there, so twisted and gnarled that they looked almost like living creatures. In strong sun, they threw the most amazing shadows and, even knowing it was all make-believe, playing between them, there was always a part of me terrified an oni would leap out and grab me."

Shihōin-taichō listened with a surprisingly fond expression. When he'd finished, she said, "You must have been a very imaginative little boy." 

"I suppose I was." Shunsui allowed his shikai to drop and sheathed his swords. "I'm sorry I couldn't find the strangers, taichō."

"We'll keep trying." She turned back to the wall, all business. "With the 10th, I think."

"More work for Kisuke and his toy," Shunsui said, his heart going out to all those poor bastards who were about to be turned inside out so that Onmitsukidō could get some answers.

"Hmm," Shihōin said, golden eyes narrowing. "I think it might be time to pull out the big guns."

#

The next morning, Shunsui was at a desk in the captain's cramped outer office, doing his best to catch up on the Kuchiki murder investigation, when there was a sudden crescendo of whispering on the walkway outside followed by an ominous silence and the thump-thump-thump of footsteps. A moment later, the doors drew back and a man entered.

He was young and fairly attractive, if your taste veered towards arrogant young noblemen, and in his hair he wore an ornament that Shunsui was more accustomed to seeing on Kuchiki Ginrei. The new Kuchiki heir, then. Now what was his name again?

"Kuchiki Kōga-dono," Yoshiyuki said, leaping up from his desk and dipping a surprisingly respectful bow considering Kōga was only a tenth seat. 

Kōga returned Yoshiyuki's bow with one of his own, deep enough to make the kenseikan swing sideward, like he hadn't quite worked out the best way to fix it in yet. "Thank you, fukutaichō-san. I'm here to see Shihōin-taichō. She wanted to see me." His voice was pleasant, and he seemed polite enough given his reputation.

"This way, please," Yoshiyuki intoned, and led the way into Shihōin-taichō's office, leaving Shunsui to ponder what exactly the new Kuchiki heir was chatting to the Onmitsukidō commander about. 

It had to be the murder. Did Kōga have some kind of insider information from the Kuchiki clan?

About ten minutes later, the door opened again and Yoshiyuki gestured for Shunsui to join them. Shunsui hurried inside, to be greeted by Shihōin-taichō's irritable wave to be seated and her saying, "Ayaoni tells me they had you keeping an eye on potential troublemakers. Did you pick anything up?"

"Nothing I felt worth reporting, taichō," Shunsui replied sinking quickly to his knees in the designated spot by the wall. Sure there'd been trash-talk but the captain couldn't mean that, surely.

"What about the stuff that wasn't worth reporting," she pressed. "Any clues, any hints."

"Um…" Shunsui darted a glance at Kōga, who was sitting at the desk just across from Shihōin. "A few people felt the departed might have brought it on himself," he began.

"Scum," Kōga spat out, undoing all the good impression he'd made on Shunsui in the outer office. "To speak of such a man so. And a True First clan-head at that."

Touchy, Shunsui thought, and then remembered: Kōga wasn't a born True First. He'd married Ginrei's eldest, a daughter, and so was only a Kuchiki by law. That explained everything. If this had been Kuchiki Ginrei, he'd wouldn't have felt the need to defend his father because he'd have known that Kuchiki Hiromasa didn't need defenders. 

In fact, the old man probably would have been the first to admit that he'd definitely had it coming in some people's eyes, which was why Shunsui hadn't seen fit to report it.

Shihōin-taichō's opinion apparently aligned with Shunsui's since all she said was, "Anything else?"

"There were quite a few complaints about the tenshintai." 

Beside him, Kōga stiffened, his hand going to his sword. Shunsui gave him a wary look. He didn't think the man was going to draw, but you couldn't be too careful and Kuchiki Kōga had a reputation for hot-headedness.

And now he was the Kuchiki heir.

"Then they're going to dislike the next stage of the process even less," Shihōin-taichō said. "Kuchiki, you'll start with the 10th this afternoon. Yoshiyuki, you go with him. Kyoraku, you'll take over the outer office." She stood up, meaning the rest of them had to scramble to their feet. "Dismissed."

#

Jūshirō was running late. Ducking into the izakaya, he spotted Shunsui in their usual corner and raised a hand in greeting as he hurried to join him. Beyond the occasional butterfly, they'd not had contact for a while, so this was his first chance to see how Shunsui was getting on since his reassignment. Excellently by the looks of him. The dark circles under his eyes were gone and there was a gleam in them that Jūshirō couldn't remember seeing since back before the Ise woman was executed

"Good evening," he said, sitting down on the cushion opposite his partner and nodding his thanks to the server sliding plates of kaagare and pickled cucumber onto the table in front of them. "You're looking better. The 8th must be good for you."

"It is good there," Shunsui agreed, leaning forward to pour Jūshirō a drink. Then, in a seeming afterthought, added, "Surprisingly so, actually."

"Shihōin-taichō's not the monster she's made out to be then," Jūshirō joked, helping himself to a particularly crunchy looking piece of fried chicken.

"Oh, she's a monster all right," Shunsui chuckled and put the sake down on Jūshirō's side of the table. "And her mind goes round corners in ways you would never believe." 

That explained the glint in Shunsui's eye. For all his posturing at laziness, there was nothing he loved more than an intellectual challenge. Taking the unsubtle hint, Jūshirō poured for Shunsui. "So, it's next stop a transfer to Onmitsukidō?" 

That won Jūshirō a true belly laugh. "Not if they paid me a king's ransom," Shunsui said, fussily selecting his own piece of chicken. "Like I told Shihōin-taichō, I'm not that kind of Kyōraku."

He really wasn't. From what little Jūshirō knew, the Kyōraku clan were experts in martial arts. Shunsui might be excellent at many things, but the kind of hakuda demanded by Onmitsukidō wasn't amongst them.

"So what has she got you doing?" Jūshirō asked, taking a sip of his drink. The sake was cool, dry and the perfect accompaniment to the fried chicken. 

Across the other side of the table, Shunsui deflated. "Paperwork. Piles and piles of paperwork. Pity me, Jū-chan."

Acting was also not a strong point.

Fingertips brushed the inside of Jūshirō's wrist. He gave his puppy-eyed lover a stern look. There was nothing at all wrong with seduction; in fact he'd come out tonight with similar thoughts in mind; but he was not going to allow the promise of intimacy to be used against him.

He was, however, prepared to concede that much of Shunsui's work was probably classified. Moving his hand out of temptation's reach, he magnanimously changed the subject. "Tell me she's at least giving you enough time off to work on bankai."

Shunsui immediately sat up and turned away, pulling a face. Jūshirō put down his food. "You've been neglecting it again, haven't you. And after all that progress you made before. A whole new shikai ability."

"I'll get to it, I will. I promise. It's just…" The words petered out. They were back to unspeakable subjects. Unspeakable here anyway. 

Well, that was easily fixed. Picking up his napkin and wiping his mouth, Jūshirō said, "You know, there's a beautiful spot I've been meaning to show you out in west one. How about we get this packed to go and take the opportunity to," --he fluttered his eyelashes for the benefit of any eavesdroppers-- "get reacquainted."

Shunsui's smirk, quickly hidden behind his hand, said he'd seen straight through Jūshirō's ruse. Still, it took him more than a second to reply, as though he was having to think it through. Finally though, he said, "That sounds like an absolutely splendid idea," and the next moment was heaving to his feet, calling, "Waiter! Bring another jug and a bento for myself and my handsome companion here. We plan to make a picnic of it. A romantic midnight picnic!"

Now he was just overplaying it. Which was Shunsui all over. Jūshirō sighed quietly, leaned back to let the server reach past him to reclaim the food, and proceeded to ignore Shunsui's flowery declarations while they waited for their stuff. Finally, take-out and sake in hand, he allowed himself to be ushered from the premises in a flourish of approval and congratulation for such an excellent choice in partners.

"Do you have to do that?" he complained once they hit the street.

"They're going to talk about it anyway. Might as well give them a good reason," Shunsui replied, and stepped into shunpo.

Jūshirō followed him. Shunsui wasn't wrong. Any gossip that resulted from them going off together would now focus on the obvious sexual intent of their exit and nothing more. It was just… Well, it would be nice not to be seen as the little woman to Shunsui's romantic lead once in a while.

They did end up in west one, though not on the secluded riverbank Jūshirō had been planning to take them to. Instead, Shunsui guided them to a hillside covered in cosmos, their vibrant pinks and purples dulled to shades of grey by the moonlight. There was a stunning view down over Seireitei however, which made it perfect, in that they'd be able to feel anyone coming from miles away, but also have the privacy of the knee-high flowers. 

As Shunsui stamped them a small clearing, Jūshirō stripped off his coat and laid it on the ground. It wasn't much to sit on, but it would block the worst of stems getting in places they shouldn't. Then they both sat, and the food and sake came out.

For a while, neither of them did anything but eat, drink and enjoy the view. It was beautiful. The sky was velvet dark and clear, the regular dots of stars seeming a mirror to the lights of Seireitei far below, and the air was sweet, perfumed by the flowers around them. Finally, after several minutes, Shunsui sighed heavily, leaned across the gap between them and kissed him. 

Jūshirō kissed back, enjoying the slight savoury taste and prickle of unshaved skin. If they did this for very long, he was going to end up with terrible beard burn tomorrow. Which, he supposed, would simply reinforce their ruse of lovers looking for privacy.

The kiss deepened, temporarily stealing Jūshirō's ability to breathe as large hands cradled his cheeks. Shunsui was the only one who could make him feel small, delicate almost, which was a ridiculous thing for a man of his maturity to think, but it was true. Because this was a side of Shunsui that he so rarely let himself show. This gentleness and regard for those he cared about, so at odds with his normally jovial and devil-may-care demeanour. 

But there was something else in the kiss tonight. Where they touched skin, Shunsui's fingertips trembled, and his lips seemed to plead. For forgiveness or help, Jūshirō didn't know, but he intended to find out.

When he got back his ability to care about anything beyond the moment anyway. 

Finally though, Shunsui drew back with a sigh, and rested his forehead against Jūshirō's. This close, he was Jūshirō's whole world, their breaths, one breath, and Jūshirō could feel his lover's indecision like it was his own. 

"You know," he said in not much more than a whisper, "you can tell me anything."

Shunsui's chuckle was a warm chicken-scented gust against Jūshirō's cheek. "You always could read me too well." 

"Only because you let me."

That seemed to break the block. Shunsui's hands, where they'd slid down to clutch at Jūshirō's forearms, tightened briefly, and then he was pulling away. "We need to talk," he said.

"We do," Jūshirō agreed, but added nothing further. Whatever was going on, it was for Shunsui to make the running in this conversation. 

It took several more minutes and one more bowl of sake, but eventually Shunsui said, "She has me investigating the Kuchiki murder."

That was both a surprise and not. That Shihōin-taichō would entrust such a thing to someone only temporarily assigned to her division seemed unduly risky, but Shunsui was a Kyōraku, and the relationship between those two families went back generations. Also, being a Kyōraku put him only a rung or so down the ladder from the Kuchiki themselves, so his involvement wouldn't be seen as insulting in the way someone lower or, gods forbid, a commoner, investigating would. 

But none of that was important right now. "You've found something." It wasn't a question. All of Shunsui's body language right now screamed that it didn't need to be.

Shunsui sighed again. Being this serious, this open didn't come naturally to him, Jūshirō knew. His instinct was always to deflect and brush away anything that came close to touching him, so Jūshirō was happy for him to take his time. 

"There's nothing conclusive," he said finally. "But from everything I've read, all the people I've spoken to, I think it was someone on the inside."

"A servant? Guard?" Not unheard of, but still...

"No. Another Kuchiki."

That… that put an entirely different spin on things. "Are you sure?" And he totally deserved the quizzical look Shunsui gave him for that, because of course he was. He wouldn't have said it otherwise. 

"It's the only answer that makes sense." Using the bento, sake jugs and what was left of the chicken for illustration, Shunsui constructed the scene on the ground between them. "There are only two direct entrances into the sento, here and here, and both are from the main house. The guards were on the walls, here, and none of them, either before or after the shift change, saw or heard anything all night. Likewise the servants, asleep back in the main house, here."

That all seemed clear. Jūshirō nodded and Shunsui continued. "All except the victim's steward, who remained at the sento with his master. He swears, even under torture, that the last time he saw Hiromasa alive was when he was instructed to leave him alone to soak. The next thing he remembers, it was dawn, his master was dead and the body already cold."

That was strange, and really had few explanations. "A time skip?" 

Shunsui held out his hand, palm up. "Or something of that nature."

"Was there any sign of kidō?" 

"No, but there was signs of the same sedative in the steward's blood that was found in the victim's."

"That would explain why he didn't see anything." It seemed simple enough to Jūshirō, and yet Shunsui seemed to think there was more to it.

"It would, but it doesn't explain how anyone got into the sento to administer it without being seen by the guards. Remember, all of them recall the entire night."

"Oh." Jūshirō had forgotten about that part, which was why Shunsui was so much better suited to this kind of thing than he was. "And the only way someone could have got in without them seeing is from the main house."

"Exactly."

"And the servants?" Jūshirō ventured, already suspecting the answer.

Shunsui shrugged. "Seem to be innocent so far as can be told. Beyond a certain point, questioning becomes pointless since the person will say anything to get it to stop."

Jūshirō winced. He hated that side of things. Hopefully one day someone would invent a device like the tenshintai that worked on people without zanpakutō, and then it wouldn't be necessary any more. 

"Which only leaves the family."

Again, Shunsui opened his palm. "As you say. Though they were all quick to send letters to Shihōin-taichō denying any involvement."

"And, of course, no one's got the right to question them, not even Onmitsukidō." Jūshirō sighed, tucked his knee up under his chin and gazed down on Seireitei, ghostly in the darkness. "But why would any of them even want him dead? I mean, there's Ginrei, I suppose, but he never struck me as eager to inherit."

"Actually, we may have some intelligence about that too."

There was something in Shunsui's voice. Jūshirō turned his head to look at him. It was difficult to make out many details in the dark, but something about the tilt of his shoulders, the cast of his head, said resigned. 

"It seems Hiromasa had been making use of the Kidō Corps to try and ensure the Kuchiki only had boy children."

Jūshirō froze. "Only had boys or... didn't have girls?" he asked carefully. His own family had huge numbers of children, but he'd known others that struggled to have any at all and the lengths they would go to in order to correct what they saw as a problem. It never seemed to occur to them to simply allow their daughters to inherit.

"At this point we're not sure," Shunsui said, then sighed and lay back on the ground. "But I think this is why Shihōin-taichō handed the whole thing over to me. You know how her clan gets when something like this comes up."

Jūshirō did. He also knew that if Shihōin-taichō tried to bring an accusation of murder against a member of a True First clan, it was going to have to be absolutely watertight. And that included being devoid of any possible suggestion of bias. 

But they were going have to bring a charge against someone eventually, because, beyond the division captains, a major part of the way discipline in the Gotei was maintained was the unspoken assumption that Onmitsukidō was watching your every move. 

Of course, the higher up the ranks you rose, the more obvious it became that it wasn't strictly true, and that Onmitsukidō really didn't care if you stole your colleague's lunch box or skipped a shift because you were hungover. But the paranoia still remained. Look at himself and Shunsui right now. If they truly didn't believe that Onmitsukidō had eyes and ears everywhere, why would they have gone to all the trouble to come out here to talk, when they could have stayed at the izakaya?

No, belief in Onmitsukidō's infallibility ran deep through the heart of all Seireitei and if they failed to solve this crime, it was going to look very bad for them indeed. Which meant only one thing.

"If you can't build a credible case against the Kuchiki, they're going to need a scapegoat."

"Yes." 

It was probably coincidence, but just as Shunsui spoke, the moon was swallowed by a cloud, plunging the world into even deeper darkness, and for a moment it felt to Jūshirō like it would never grow light again. 

There was too much of this. Too many carrying blame where it didn't belong, being 'questioned' until they broke so that others could have plausible deniability; innocents being chosen as the sacrificial lamb so that others could continue to live their lives untouched by doubt. And all of that went hand in hand with a mind set that locked children away when they'd committed no crime and left others to starve simply for having been born in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And Jūshirō hated it. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

Shunsui, arms folded behind his head, shrugged. "For now, nothing. I want to dig deeper into this business with the Kidō Corps. If nothing else, I might be able to find someone there who at least deserves to get their wrists slapped."

It would be a lot more than that if they were accused of murder. They'd be lucky to escape execution. "Make sure you're not just choosing an innocent who's more palatable to you," Jūshirō warned. 

Shunsui cast a look at him, one that Jūshirō couldn't see clearly in the dark but felt the weight of nonetheless. "I'll be careful." 

And he couldn't ask more than that. "So," he said, after a moment, "any other bombshells you need to drop on me?"

He meant it as a joke but, as the silence stretched, it became blatantly obvious that he'd inadvertently touched on the truth. 

"Shunsui?"

"I'm trying to decide whether to tell you."

For a brief second blind-panic filled Jūshirō's mind - Shunsui was leaving him, the kiss earlier had been a kiss goodbye.

_Even if he does, you would not be alone. We are always with you._

The panic receded and Jūshirō closed his eyes, thanks welling in his heart. It wouldn't be the same, but it was true, if he and Shunsui ever did split, Sōgyo no Kotowari and Mimihagi would still be there, now more than they ever had been before. 

The breakthrough had come less than a month ago when the darkness in his inner world had finally cleared entirely and Jūshirō had been able to see the seascape for the very first time. Since then, their bond had only grown closer. Jūshirō spending every moment he could spare with the pair of playful ningyo that now dwelt in his soul.

He was even starting to gain glimpses of Sōgyo no Kotowari's true abilities and how they might be combined with Mimihagi's power to create something close to bankai.

"So, I stepped through the shadows and found an army."

It took a second for Shunsui's words to penetrate his thoughts, but when they did, Jūshirō spun on him with a shocked, "What!"

"Well, well," Shunsui chuckled, "You're not asleep then. I was starting to wonder."

"No, I'm not, and if that was some kind of tease, I did not appreciate it." Just the thought of something like that made his stomach lurch and his lungs try and seize, because an army would mean war, and Jūshirō wasn't ready for that. He was never going to be ready for that. It had been bad enough the last time.

They'd been arrancar, led - or more accurately in this case, driven - by a pair of Vasto Lorde who'd suddenly emerged from the wastes of Hueco Mundo and hit the outskirts of north Rukongai. Five districts had been obliterated before the Gotei made it out there and even then the fighting had been brutal. The captains of the 7th and 8th had both been killed, overwhelmed by the power of the Vasto Lorde. It had taken the combined power of the head captain, Unohana-taichō and Kuchiki Hiromasa to finally defeat them.

The mopping up had almost been worse. Although Jūshirō had been out of academy for a couple of decades by then, it had never occurred to him that hollows could be so human. The arrancar had been, and some had foolishly tried to surrender. They got no mercy, and the resulting slaughter had left Jushiro sickened for weeks. 

And now Shunsui was saying he'd found another army.

"Hollows?" Jūshirō asked, though honestly, there was nothing else they could be.

"No. Humans of some kind, I think."

Oh, only a human army. That was a relief. Jūshirō relaxed a little. "You were in the living world then."

"Good question. I didn't think I was, but that would mean they had to be somewhere in Soul Society."

Like Rukongai. Jūshirō frowned. "So, they were souls?"

Shunsui heaved a huge sigh and rolled over to face him. "I don't know. It happened once and lasted for about two minutes." He held up a hand. "And yes, I have tried to find them again and I can't."

That sounded… quite ominous actually. "How did you know they were an army?"

"The uniforms." Jūshirō listened as Shunsui outlined what he'd seen; the city, the crowd, the platforms, the banners. "Yama-jii seemed really interested in those," he said when he got to the end.

"They sound familiar to me too," Jūshirō said, wracking his memory for where he might have seen or heard of anything like that. Central somewhere? It seemed the most likely, but more than that just wasn't happening right now. 

Somewhere in his periphery, he registered Shunsui sitting up, so the tackle that bore him backward to the ground didn't come as a complete surprise. It was enough to make him gasp though, and to smack Shunsui in reprimand. "Don't do that without warning!"

"But you look so handsome when you're deep in thought like that," Shunsui replied, settling his weight across Jūshirō's body. It was comforting after the conversations they'd been having. Reassuring to know that whatever might be coming, Shunsui, as well as Sōgyo no Kotowari and Mimihagi, would be there to face it with him.

Reaching out, he caught Shunsui's face between his palms and drew him down into a kiss. It was time to ensure their pretext for being alone had a truly authentic edge.


	4. Shadowlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui follows the clues and turns up far more than he was expecting.

The Kidō Corps weren't an easy bunch to get an in on, even when you were Shihōin-taichō's aide-de-camp and thus, theoretically at least, working with Onmitsukidō. They were isolationist, private to a fault and very unwelcoming of outsiders. This officer was no exception, staring blandly across the desk at Shunsui, their face and body mostly concealed by cloth, as was standard for the corps. 

What probably wasn't standard though was Shunsui's experience working for someone who dressed that way. Three decades of learning to interpret Ayaoni-taichō's moods from the sliver of features visible above the face-covering were now standing him in good stead, and what they were telling him was that this officer was rattled -- by the mere request to interview their subordinates. And if that wasn't suspicious, Shunsui didn't know what was.

"So, they're not going to be available to speak to until next week at the earliest," he tried, and won a slight inclination of the officer's head.

"If then. Those specific Kidō Corps members are exceedingly busy during this season."

Shunsui suspected that those specific Kidō Corps members were going to be busy every season, but he wasn't about to push his luck, or the point. It wasn't as though he didn't have other ways of getting information.

"Then we shall leave it until then and I thank you for your time," Shunsui said, getting to his feet.

The tension that had been stringing the officer's shoulders seemed to unravel and they dipped a little bow as they said, "I'm sorry we couldn't have been more useful."

Was that a little bit of guilt he sensed? Well, he wasn't about to let that go unspent. 

Feigning regret, Shunsui let out a heavy sigh and then put on his very best wheedling lordling voice, "You know, growing up I always wanted to be in the Kidō Corps, but alas my clan had other ideas. The Kyōraku, you know. Anyway, I don't suppose there's any chance of a quick tour, only the public areas obviously, like you give to students who are thinking of joining, just so I can see what I missed." 

The hesitation in the officer's bow was momentary, but enough to prove that they really didn't want anyone, especially not someone working with Onmitsukidō, poking around headquarters. But Shunsui wasn't asking for anything others weren't freely given and so, without a really good reason to deny him, they were going to have to give him what he wanted.

"Of course, Kyōraku-fukutaichō," said the officer, folding spectacularly. "I'll instruct the guard to take the scenic route on the way out." 

It wasn't much of a guided tour. Shunsui was left to draw his own conclusions as to what functions particular rooms might serve. Some were obviously lecture theatres, others living quarters, and others again practice rooms. They were of little interest, except to glean a general layout of the place. It was the holes and corners that Shunsui noted, the ones with shadowy corners and dead ends, where a person with a particular skill might slide in without being noticed.

Now all he needed was permission.

#

Shihōin-taichō listened for all of half a second before holding up her hand to silence him. "I can't know this," she said. "The Kidō Corps are law unto themselves."

"But-!" Shunsui tried to argue.

"Which isn't to say it isn't a passable idea, with a few adjustments," Shihōin-taichō continued, as though he'd not spoken. "It just can't happen like this." She took a breath and looked Shunsui in the eye. "Go home. You should be there in case someone calls."

Even Shunsui wasn't daft enough to ignore that unsubtle hint. Though, when young Shihōin Yoruichi knocked on his door at sunset with a borrowed Kidō Corps uniform over her arm and revisions to his plan on her lips, he kind of wished he had. 

"I must look ridiculous," he muttered sorrowfully, tugging black uniform sleeves down over white gloves. 

"You look fine," Yoruichi replied with a grin as she reached up to adjust his face-covering. "I told you, loads of Kidō Corps members are your size."

So how come Shunsui only ever saw the tiny ones. Though, come to think of it, some of those handling the Sōkyoku were fairly hefty. 

Would people think he was one of _those_ Kidō Corps officers? That would be unpleasant. Shunsui wasn't under any illusions about his better nature, but he was no executioner.

Or was he? If this plan panned out, whoever got arrested might well end up being executed. And the likelihood was, they'd be… well, not a complete innocent, he'd make sure of that, but at least innocent of the crime they'd be accused of; the murder of Kuchiki Hiromasa.

So really, what was the difference between him and any Kidō Corps officer escorting someone to the execution grounds. If anything, he'd be more guilty than they were. At least they'd be following orders.

Still, it was hard to think of himself as wearing the same outfit as the people who killed nee-san.

"Just remember not to open your mouth and you'll be fine."

Dragged out of his spiral of self-recrimination, Shunsui blurted, "What?" 

Yoruichi huffed at him. "Kidō corps people are clever. If you go in there asking tricky questions, they're going to cotton on right away that you're an undercover Onmitsukidō officer."

Oh. That made sense. Though, "That's going to put a crimp in my information gathering."

"Tessai'll handle it. He'll know where to go so you can get what you need."

That was the other thing. Apparently Shunsui's original plan of hiding in the shadows and hoping to eavesdrop hadn't been quite been good enough, so now he had an escort. This Tessai person.

"Are you sure we can trust this guy?" Shunsui asked, picking up his swords. He was going to have to hide them somehow since Kidō Corps didn't carry zanpakutō and he couldn't exactly leave them at home.

"I told you, he's a friend of mine."

Which didn't mean he was a friend of Shunsui's, or would remain on-side once Shunsui started asking questions. Glancing up from his examination of his uniform, Shunsui said, "Does he know what I'm trying to do?"

"Find who killed old man Kuchiki. Sure, of course he does." As she spoke, Yoruichi looked away, and no Shihoin would do that accidently. 

"The real reason," Shunsui pressed. He had to know, otherwise he'd be risking discovery and, as Yoruichi had so happily informed him when she first arrived, 'Grandmother says, if you get caught, you're on your own.'

"He knows," Yoruichi reiterated, low-voiced and serious now. She moved away across the room, restless and obviously upset. "He doesn't like it, but he hates what the Kuchiki are doing even more."

"What we suspect they're doing," Shunsui qualified, sliding Katen Kyōkotsu inside his hakama and trying to make them comfortable. He managed it, kind of. Walking was going to be a pain, but he could limp. "Remember, that's the whole point of doing this, to see if there's anything to the rumours." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Unless your friend knows more than we do."

"If he did, he would have told me or grandmother," Yoruichi said. "Stop worrying. Tessai'll keep you safe. He's one of the good guys."

Easy for her to say. Kyōraku adjusted his swords one final time, then drew them both. Across the room, Yoruichi turned, eyes gleaming like torches in the dim room, and bounced on her toes like a kid in a candy store. "You going to do the shadow thing now? Cause grandma told me how it works and it sounds really cool."

#

Well, at least he knew where the uniform came from now, Shunsui thought as the bowing mustachioed man-mountain in front of him rumbled a respectful, "Kyōraku-fukutaichō. It's very good to meet you, sir. I'm Tessai."

Still no family name. Not that Shunsui actually needed it now that he'd met the man. That green and black robe Tessai was wearing told Shunsui exactly who he was speaking to: the Head of Theoretical Kidō, because of course Yoruichi's 'friend' wasn't going to be anyone from the rank and file. She was a Shihōin, for goodness sake.

They were outside lecture room four, the only place from the list of seven alternatives that Shunsui had recognised, and the building around them was night-time quiet. It wouldn't stay that way though if the wrong people came along.

"Good to meet you too," Shunsui said, returning the bow with a hurried dip of his own. "Now, let's get going before someone catches us hobnobbing here like a couple of lovebirds."

Tessai jerked slightly and an incredulous look shot Shunsui's way before he was all business again. Moving off toward the corridor, he asked quietly, "Do you have any objections to serving at dinner, sir? The senior members have guests this evening and it would be the most efficient way of eavesdropping."

Not exactly what Shunsui'd had in mind, but he'd manage. "None at all," he said, sliding his swords into his hakama. The wakizashi went with no trouble at all. The longer sword not so much, as if Ohana was making known her dislike of being stuck down Shunsui's trousers. 

_Whatever makes you think that?_ A dirt dry voice said in his head as the sword's hilt somehow managed to jam him in the balls.

Shunsui let out a quiet yelp and stopped to readjust. Ahead of him, by the main corridor, Tessai turned, the obvious concern in his eyes not entirely hidden by the thick glasses he was wearing. 

"Just a slight issue with my zanpakutō," Shunsui said, waving him away and limping to catch up. Well, this was going to be fun.

"I can conceal them for you, if you wish," Tessai suggested politely.

Which would allow him to wear them normally. 

Shunsui thought about having to serve dinner, and the sheer amount of standing and kneeling that was going to entail, and caved. He tugged his zanpakutō out of his hakama and pushed them through his obi. "Have at it," he said, releasing them and lifting his hands. He chuckled. "I'll just have to remember not to draw them if I feel threatened."

Tessai gave him an admonishing look that bore a startling resemblance to Jūshirō's and stepped forward, fingers already weaving a spell. When they touched down against Katen Kyōkotsu, Shunsui heard a startled gasp in his head and suddenly the swords were gone. Not simply visibly, but the weight and heft of them at his waist too. 

He groped for the hilts, expecting to find nothing, and was relieved beyond measure when his fingers closed around leather and wood. 

"That is… How do you do that?"

Tessai shrugged, though Shunsui thought he looked pleased to be asked. "It's nothing special. Just a reworking of kyokkō to account for the physical nature of reishi. Only someone who knows the swords are there will be able to touch them."

So he wouldn't accidently jab someone as they walked by. Good to know. 

That was one very useful spell. And entirely unnecessary. It would have been much easier for Tessai to suggest Shunsui leave his swords behind. That fact that he hadn't made Shunsui feel much more well-disposed towards him.

With a grin, he strode forward and clapped Tessai on the shoulder, turning them both so they were heading out onto the main corridor. "Thank you for that. I can tell when a man's heart is in the right place, and you're definitely one of them."

"Thank- Thank you, fukutaichō." Tessai hurried after him. "But please, let me go first. It would look very strange indeed for a master to be following their servant."

That wasn't the only spell Tessai gifted him with either. As they were crossing between buildings, he added another to Shunsui's arsenal. "This should help with eavesdropping on specific conversations," he said, reaching under Shunsui veil and dabbing him behind each ear.

Shunsui felt a small surge of reiatsu, like the breaking of a seal, and suddenly his hearing was ten times better. Curious, he turned in a small circle, the evening's sounds shifting in and out of hearing as he went.

"It's very directional," Tessai explained before they set off again. "And very effective. Though you might find it difficult to use properly at first."

He wasn't kidding. By the time they reached the bustling banquet hall, Shunsui's head had started to throb from the sheer volume of the noise around him. Everytime he moved his head, even slightly, yet another crash of dishes or conversation zoomed up to full volume and half-deafened him. It was tempting to use the cancellation kidō Tessai had shown him, but the potential usefulness of so much information out there just waiting to be gathered made him persevere. 

Slowly he managed to get to grips with it. Helped by the fact that 'serving at dinner' turned out only to mean serving Tessai personally, so once the main course was up and running, most of his time was spent standing behind Tessai's chair, ready to come if called. 

The role also gave him an excellent opportunity to scope out the room. There were three long western style tables set up in a horseshoe formation. The one at the top being where the evening's guests were seated, and it took Shunsui a moment to recognise who exactly was sitting to the right hand of the Kidō Corps commander. 

Tsunayashiro Hayase was greyer-haired and more frail-looking than Shunsui remembered. He was cousin to the current Tsunayashiro clan head, but Shunsui knew him better as the father of an old academy acquaintance,Tsunayashiro Tokinada, who Shunsui hadn't bothered to keep up with after they all graduated on account of the man being a complete jerk.

A sudden bark of familiar laughter told Shunsui that was all about to change, because sure enough, there Tokinada was, as large as life and twice as annoying, sitting at the far end of the top table. He always reminded Shunsui of a fox. Narrow-faced and mean-eyed, he'd spent his years at academy preying on unsuspecting female students and using his rank to make life miserable for everyone else. And branch member though he might be, the Tsunayashiro were still True First, so that was a lot of rank to throw around.

Personally, Shunsui had tried to avoid him. Jūshirō hadn't. Always the type to see the best in people, Jūshirō had tried to make friends with Tokinada, only to be rebuffed in the rudest way imaginable. If Shunsui recalled correctly, it had taken some seriously intense persuasion from Jūshirō one night to stop Shunsui hunting the arrogant little arse down and punching his teeth in. 

Just looking at him now, sitting there in his shihakushō made Shunsui's fists itch. Considering how little work he'd done in Academy, Tokinada hadn't deserved that uniform when he'd graduated, and going by the way he was pawing at the young woman beside him, it didn't look like his character had changed much in the intervening years either. 

Given the man's previous record with women, Shunsui automatically turned his head to arrow in on Tokinada's conversation, just in case he was going to be needed for a rescue later. He was cosying up to the woman next to him saying, "...such a pretty smile. You really should do it more. Yes, just like that. Now, a kiss maybe?" As Shunsui watched, Tokinada reached out, catching the woman under the chin and leaned in as though for a kiss.

The woman, no more than a girl really, and wearing civilian style kimono, froze, apparently unwilling to insult a True First by refusing his attentions, but also very obviously not consenting to the kiss. 

Now, Shunsui had a reputation for being an incorrigible flirt, but even he knew when something was too much, and this behaviour had left too much in the dust several miles ago. He was on the cusp of saying to hell with the mission and going to rescue the poor thing when the man sitting to her other side leaned around her, slapped Tokinada's hand away with crack of his fan and snarled quietly, "For goodness sake give it a rest for one night, can't you, brother."

Tokinada slumped back with a pout and the young woman shifted away, glancing between him and her rescuer. After a moment, she murmured apologies, ducked her head to both of them and rose, scurrying away with her maidservant on her heels.

"Now look what you've done," Tokinada's brother snapped. "I should have known you'd be nothing but trouble."

He turned back to his dinner companion too soon to catch Tokinada's reaction, which was far more smug than it had any right to be for a man who'd just been chastised in public like a child. But at least the young woman was safe.

Shunsui turned his attention to the rest of the high table, quickly listening in on the conversations for long enough to get the gist of them before moving on to the next. Most were small talk: the weather, children, entertainments recently enjoyed. Others were about politics, specifically of the Central 46 variety, which honestly Shunsui could live without over-hearing. Still, he focused on them for long enough to check they were only about works contracts and food licenses before dismissing them as irrelevant.

It wasn't until he moved down to the first of the lower tables that he realised Tokinada had vanished. Or more specifically, was in the process of moving. He was honing in on a woman at one of the lower tables, Shunsui realised with a start, though this one was older than the girl he'd just chased away and was wearing the robes of a Kidō Corps officer. If Tokinada was hoping to play the same game with her, he was going to get a bit of a shock, Shunsui suspected.

Still, he listened in as Tokinada rudely pushed between the woman and the young man beside her and said, "I didn't expect to see you here."

The woman paused in her conversation with the old lady beside her and gave Tokinada a once over. "Do I know you?" she asked, about as rudely as Tokinada had been.

Shunsui waited for the fireworks to begin. If anyone back at Academy had dared addressed Tokinada that casually, there would have been hell to pay. Not anymore, apparently. Or at least, not for this woman. 

Instead, Tokinada smirked at her, told the young man to shove off and stole his chair. "Not as such," he said as he sat down. "But I've seen you with Ueno Shiori, and she and I have recently been intimately acquainted. Last Friday, specifically." He sighed, leaning his chin on his hand and staring off into the distance like he was recalling a really good memory. "She's a remarkably good fuck."

The woman, who'd startled at Ueno's name, now looked devastated at his words. Shunsui swallowed back his own disgust at Tokinada's behaviour and kept listening because the Ueno were a branch of the Kuchiki's. They specialised in legal matters around Central and were on the list of guests the weekend Hiromasa was murdered. 

"Anyway," Tokinada continued, sitting up and dropping his hand, not coincidentally on top of the woman's. "She had some wonderful pictures of you that I took quite the fancy to and it occurred to me afterwards how much fun it would be if the three of us could get together sometime." He smiled, like he was giving her the best compliment. "What do you say, my dear? Fancy letting little old me in on your cosy twosome? It'd be such a pity after all if her husband got his hands on those pictures."

Blackmail. Were there no depths Tokinada wouldn't stoop to?

The woman's expression went from distressed to cynical in a heartbeat. "He already knows," she said, pulling her hand out from under Tokinada's. "And he doesn't care."

"Really?" Tokinada looked genuinely surprised. "That's not what Shiori told me. In fact, she seemed quite worried that I'd give the game away." He leaned forward. "Are you sure she's not lying?"

"Positive," the woman said. "I know because I was there. We were in her rooms at the Kuchiki estate-" 

She suddenly stopped talking, her mouth going flat, and every cell in Shunsui's body stood to attention. If this confession had coincided with the murder, then he finally had a witness who wasn't a noble or employed by the Kuchiki. One who could be questioned about the goings on at the estate that weekend. 

Maybe.

He should probably check that before doing anything too drastic.

Under the pretense of pouring more sake, he whispered into Tessai's ear, "Top table, far left, blue and yellow robes. Who is she?"

"Agata Kinuyo," Tessai replied so quietly it was practically sub-vocal, though thanks to the spell Shunsui could hear him clearly. "Vice deputy liaison to the 4th division. She specialises in medical kidō."

Did she indeed. A medical kidō expert with ties to the Kuchiki. What were the chances of her being the one Shunsui was after? 

Tessai seemed to come to the exact same conclusion, though without any of Shunsui's supporting evidence. Maybe he just read it in Shunsui's eyes. Whatever the reason, he said quickly, "Any records will be in her rooms; the main residential building, second floor. Her name's on the door. Do you think you can find them?"

Shunsui nodded and drew back. Loath as he was to abandon the dinner and any further chance to overhear their conversation, he needed to get to those documents. With them in hand, he might have enough leverage to force Agata to reveal which Kuchiki had been where that weekend and so which could potentially have killed the clan head.

With no further ado, he exited the room and hurried his way outside. Once clear, he found a quiet corner, drew his invisible swords and stepped through the shadows, emerging a moment later behind the residential building. Getting in there was a simple matter of waiting for someone else to enter and tagging along behind them. Then it was up the staircase and a rapid visual search of the doors until he found the one with Agata's name on it. That was when he hit a snag. The door was locked. 

Theoretically he could simply step through the shadows again and come out inside the room but, for all his experimentation, he'd never actually tried going somewhere he'd never even seen before. 

_There is no reason why you shouldn't,_ Ohana said inside his head. _It's simply a step like any other._

And yet the last time he stepped blind into the shadows, he'd ended up in a snow-covered city full of uniformed soldiers and weird banners. What if the same thing happened again?

Then he'd just have to step out again. It wasn't like he'd been trapped before, so there was no reason to think it would happen now if he ended up back in the city, and at least if he did he'd have something interesting to report back to Shihōin-taichō.

That decided, Shunsui drew and inverted his swords, and a moment later he was rising from the floor of a darkened room, surrounded by the bulky shapes of furniture that slowly became recognisable as his eyes adjusted. High backed chairs, tall tables, a long padded couch, and, against the far wall, a desk.

Shunsui sheathed his swords and hurried over to try the drawers. They wouldn't open. Like the doors, the desk was also locked. With a snarl of frustration, Shunsui spun on his heel, wondering where to start looking for the key. It could be anywhere, though knowing his luck, it was probably hung on a string around Agata's neck, which meant looking for it here was pointless. 

Either that or the desk was sealed with kidō. Which Tessai would probably be able to open, but Tessai was back in the banqueting room, so that didn't help at all. 

Another snarl, and Shunsui turned back to stare at the offending desk. The easiest solution was to break into the thing and take any relevant documents. Except if he did that, Agata would know that someone had them and it might be enough to make her run.

"Damn it," he growled, having no idea how to proceed. Eventually Agata would return and presumably either unlock the desk herself or remove the key when she went to bed. So the logical thing to do was to conceal himself somewhere in the room until that happened and then steal the documents. 

Shunsui's heart sank at the prospect. He could be stuck in here for hours.

Though, if he was, he should definitely search the rest of the place on the off chance she didn't store all her documents in the desk.

Ten minutes later, Shunsui was kicking himself for jumping to premature conclusions and sorting through Agata's scroll storage box in the bedroom. A minute after that, he was cursing up a storm again when well over half the scrolls inside it turned out to be sealed.

Finally conceding defeat, Shunsui sat back on his heels and glared at the ceiling. He needed someone who had better kidō than him. In other words, he needed Tessai, but how was he supposed to get the guy up here without advertising to the whole of the Kidō Corps that they were breaking and entering?

The answer was to bring him in via the shadows, except Shunsui had no idea if that was even possible. 

_We have hidden things before._

_Yes, but that was a sword,_ Shunsui replied silently. 

_They both have souls._

When your zanpakutō thought it knew better than you did, it was probably not a good idea to go along with it, but Shunsui was out of even bad ideas at this point, so he stood up and stepped back through the shadows into the main building. 

He found Tessai precisely where he'd left him, quietly sipping on his sake as the rest of the table gossiped around him. Shunsui hurried forward and made a performance of bending down to whisper in Tessai's ear loud enough for other people to hear, "Your presence is required, sir."

Rather than leap up straight away, Tessai simply nodded sagely, put down his drink and rose. Several of the other people at the table stood too, exchanging bows and wishes for a restful night. With the way they were speaking to him, they had to be Tessai's colleagues and subordinates, Shunsui realised with surprise, looking around. It hadn't really occurred to him up until now that Tessai had any. 

But there was no time for introductions. Not that it would be appropriate. Or necessary. In fact, as Tessai's manservant, Shunsui should be acquainted with all of them anyway.

As they walked from the banqueting hall, Shunsui glanced back. Tessai's colleagues were all seated again, and at the far table, Agata and Tokinda were still deep in conversation. Shunsui turned his head very slightly and caught just a few words of what they were saying as he left the room.

"It's not so simple as that, Tokinada-sama. You'd have to find someone powerful enough to carry to term. The mother is always more important than the child."

Oh yes, Shunsui was definitely going to be having words with that young lady the moment he had enough to detain her.

The darkened gardens around the residential complex provided plenty of cover for when Tessai took a sudden turn off the main path and into the bushes. Reaching the non-windowed side of the building, he stopped and turned, asking quietly, "Was the door locked, sir?"

"The door, the desk, the scrolls, everything," Shunsui replied, feeling his exasperation rising again. "That's why I need you. My kidō's not up to breaking the seals she's got on her documents."

Tessai nodded. "Ah. Then we will need some plan to gain entry to the building." He gestured down at his robes. "Whereas your uniform is designed to grant some level of anonymity, the same cannot be said of these robes."

Which was why he'd not come with Shunsui the first time. "I can get us in," Shunsui told him more confidently than he actually felt considering he'd never even thought of trying this before.

Tessai ducked a bow. "Then I place myself in your hands, Kyōraku-fukutaichō."

And with faith like that on your shoulders, you didn't dare fail. Shunsui drew his swords, and shuffled forward until he and Tessai were practically embracing, and said silently, _Let's go._

No answer.

Shunsui tried again, and again there was no response. In his arms, Tessai stirred and cleared his throat. "I'm ready whenever you are, sir."

"Right, good," Shunsui replied, simultaneously sending up a plaintive internal cry, _I thought you said you could do this?_

_I said we could. I am not the one who moves through the shadows._

She was right. Though she'd poked and prodded him to enter the shadows, Ohana had never gone in herself. It was the other, newer part of Katen Kyōkotsu who ruled there. And if Ohana was Katen, then the name Shunsui needed to call was, "Okyō." 

Rather than stepping through the shadows, the shadows rose to engulf them. Shunsui felt Tessai freeze for a second before relaxing again, apparently happy to trust that Shunsui knew what he was doing.

And weirdly he did, as there seemed to be little difference between having a passenger along and not. There were still no objective directions inside the shadows. Shunsui didn't walk them thirty feet to the main door and climb the stairs. It wasn't like that. The shadows were more like a river. They moved around Shunsui, and apparently whoever he had with him, but Shunsui could somehow also guide the flow. Much like a kata, or kidō for that matter, it was intuitive, but also learnt. The core of it came from the heart, while the application was most definitely rooted in the body.

They'd arrived. Shunsui gave a little push and the shadows dropped away. Immediately Tessai made a surprised noise and moved out from the circle of his arms, glancing briefly at the familiar scenery of Agata's rooms before turning to back to Shunsui and dipping a shallow bow. "Thank you for a most fascinating experience, fukutaichō. I now see why Urahara-san is so enamoured of your zanpakutō."

That was news to Shunsui, though not really a surprise. During their brief acquaintance, he'd got the impression that young Kisuke wanted to know exactly how everything worked, and Kageoni was definitely an unusual ability.

It didn't take long for Tessai to break the seal on the desk and soon Shunsui was searching through drawers while Tessai worked on the scrolls in the other room. 

The contents of the desk were mostly personal; writing materials, jewelry, ledgers, Agata's inkan - her personal stamp. But there were also a large number of letters. Ungentlemanly though it might be to read a lady's intimate writings, Shunsui waded right in, hopeful of finding some reference to her relationship with the Kuchiki, and quickly found himself neck-deep in the murkier currents of Seireitei politics. 

For all that she was only a Kidō Corps officer, Agata was apparently in correspondence with a several members of the upper nobility; not senior members, but important enough to be influential; and those nobles had confided things to her. All sorts of things. Their letters spun tales of affairs and desperate attempts to matchmake, gossip weaponised into scandal, political hit-jobs, blackmail, bribery. Some were illegal, though obfuscated enough that trying to prosecute them would be impossible, some simply immoral, but none mentioned the Kuchiki in anything but the vagueist terms.

Frustrated, he dug out yet another pile of letters and beneath them found something far more promising. Diaries. Shunsui gazed at them, amazed. Down in the banqueting hall, Agata had mentioned being at the Kuchiki estate. Could she have written about it in her diary? 

With a sense of impending triumph that he was finally going to get somewhere in this endlessly frustrating case, Shunsui opened the first book. And groaned. There were entries alright, loads of entries. But no dates. 

Of course there were no dates, that would be far too easy.

He started reading anyway in the hopes of finding something. The writing was flowery, verging on poetical, and focused mainly on relationships, seasonal changes and the festivals Agata had attended, rather than her work; a lady's musings rather than a soldier's record of events, Shunsui quickly concluded. 

Luckily, Agata did reference important events in Seireitei alongside those in the lives of her friends and family. Being fairly well acquainted with the Seireitei aspects at least, Shunsui was able to narrow down his research to one volume in particular, which mentioned the arrest of Jūshirō's old captain. 

From there it was simply a matter of reading his way through in the hopes he could identify the correct time period, though that did mean wading his way through the ups and downs of various intimate relationships, Agata's angst at being reunited with her old sponsor, Ueno Shiori, and her subsequent joy at having all her adolescent fantasies come true when they became lovers. 

The following pages were absent of time markers and veered between the usual flowery descriptions and some particularly explicit passages, the latter of which Shunsui did his best not to read too closely since Jūshirō would disapprove if he did anything less. 

When he hit reference Hiromasa's wake, he could only groan in frustration. Either he'd manage to miss the relevant bits, or for some reason she'd not written about them at all. 

Or maybe her visit to the estate had come after Hiromasa's death? That wouldn't only clear her of any involvement in the event, it would also make her useless as a witness.

Annoyed, Shunsui kept reading anyway and discovered that, much to her disappointment, Agata hadn't been invited to the funeral. She hid it well enough though, explaining to herself that a funeral was primarily for family and so it was understandable that Shiori and her husband had to put on a united front, whatever the truth might be.

Now that sounded like the husband already knew about the affair, and yet down in the banqueting hall, Agata had told Tokinada that it had been at the Kuchiki estate that Ueno had told her husband.

Frowning, Shunsui backtracked to check he'd not missed anything, but no, there was definitely no reference to any visit or confession. Maybe he'd misinterpreted her meaning. Just to be on the safe side, he read further forward in the diary, even going to far as to check the most recent volume, but still found nothing. There was no mention at all of the Kuchiki estate.

Had Agata been lying to Tokinada? 

It hadn't sounded like a lie at the time, and the way Agata's mouth had flattened halfway through that sentence made it seem like she'd had something to hide. 

So, had she not written about the visit at all, or had she taken pains to conceal it later?

There were really only a three ways of editing any kind of record: obliterating words by inking over them, using a correction kidō, or removing pages entirely, and the problem with all of those methods was that they left traces.

Shunsui didn't recall any scribbled out passages, nor any roughened paper that were the tell-tale signs of correction, so he flattened the book, looking closely for any signs of more physical tampering. There were none. To all intents and purposes, the diary was as it seemed, whole and complete. And yet, something still nagged at him.

Returning to the diary, he flicked back to the start of the women's relationship and began reading forward once again, but more slowly this time, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Still he almost missed it, distracted by the explicit nature of the prose.

It was the paper. Or more specifically, the texture of the paper. Eyes closed, the better not to be distracted by the words, Shunsui ran his fingers over the pages. Erasing ink with kidō was an Academy student staple, but the traces it left were unmistakable. When the ink was skimmed off, it took the top layer of the paper with it too, leaving the resulting surface damaged and rough. The pages on which these intimate details had been recorded were smooth. Unnaturally so.

Was there some other kind of kidō you could use to correct an entry, only by covering the ink rather than removing it? If there was, a Kidō Corps officer like Agata would probably be familiar with it. 

More importantly, would such a kidō be reversible? Shunsui didn't even know where to start trying to work that out, but luckily he had his own skilled practitioner to call on for help. 

Tucking the pertinent volume inside his shihakushō, he quickly put the rest of the diaries and letters back where he'd found them, and went to find Tessai. "Can you cover ink with kidō," he asked as he walked into the bedroom. "Because if you can, I think I might have found something."

Tessai squinted up at him from a sea of scrolls, face so sombre that Shunsui's stomach sank. "I appear to have located the Kuchiki records," he said.

"Damn," Shunsui replied and sank to the floor, the diary forgotten for the moment. It was obvious that, whatever Shunsui might suspect about Agata, this was where Tessai's interest lay, and he wasn't going anywhere until he'd got to the bottom of it. "What have you turned up?"

Tessai frowned down at the scrolls lying across his lap. "Is Kyōraku-fukutaichō familiar with standard prenatal and antenatal tests as used by doctors?"

It didn't seem to be a trick question, so Shunsui took it at face-value. "No," he said. "Though I'm guessing you can tell the sex of the baby pretty early." 

He kind of meant that as a joke, given what they were talking about. Tessai simply inclined his head. "That is true, however it's not the most important test. That is for reiryoku levels. In many noble families, the mother's are checked even before conception, and the foetus' as soon as conception is confirmed, as a mismatch between them is potentially life threatening to both." 

Even with Shunsui's limited understanding, that kind of made sense. People with high reiryoku needed to eat more than those without, and if a baby got all its nourishment from its mother, it stood to reason a weak mother could be damaged by a strong child. 

"Okay," he said, "but what's that got to do with the Kuchiki. I thought they were aborting girls." Or preventing their conception. Either way, it was dumb and dangerous.

"Not aborting," Tessai said. He dug briefly in the scrolls beside him, retrieved one and held it out to Shunsui. One quick glimpse of the complex diagrams and notations was enough to give Shunsui flashbacks to Academy. 

"That is a commonly used medical kidō," Tessai continued. "A reishi manipulation chant paired with a secondary voice which accesses percipient input to restructure DNA at the base level."

Shunsui stared at him blankly. "What?"

A grimace of frustration passed over Tessai's face. "My apologies, I forget you are neither an expert in kidō nor a medic."

That was very true. "So explain it to me like you would to a layperson."

A deep rumble of a chuckle came from Tessai. "I will try, but please remember I am Head of Theoretical Kidō for a reason." He took a deep breath. "You understand that a soul knows its own true nature."

Shunsui didn't hesitate in answering this. "Of course. It's what allows us to have zanpakutō."

"Yes, but not only that. Even those without the reiatsu to manifest a zanpakutō still know who they are on an intuitive level."

Considering the context, Shunsui could take a wild stab at what Tessai was getting at. "You mean what sex they are."

"Sex, gender, orientation, inclination. One person may be born with green thumbs; every plant they tend, thriving. Another will have a way with animals, some with machines, some wish to be sexually intimate with someone, others not." A slight smile crooked the corner of Tessai's mouth. "As my old teacher used to say, souls are complex complexes, but at their root, they know what they are, even if it takes the individual centuries to fathom out the truth of it."

Shunsui nodded. "I've never heard it put quite that way, but it makes sense." Jūshirō would like it as an argument, he was sure. With a model as flexible as that one, there was almost infinite possibility for growth and change. 

Yama-jii on the other hand would hate it.

Tessai inclined his head. "However, there are occasions when the physical fails to marry up with that truth. Thus someone who is drawn to an ascetic life may still feel the demands of the body. A musician may become deaf, an artist born blind-"

"A man born as a woman."

Tessai grimaced. "It's much more complex than that-"

"I know, I know," Shunsui cut in, waving a desperate hand. He needed Tessai to get to the point or there wouldn't be time for him to look at the diary before Agata got back from the banquet. "But for the sake of expediency and in this context-"

"We could say that a soul can be born in a body which doesn't reflect their true sex."

"And this kidō changes it?" Shunsui lifted the scroll.

"It does. Or more specifically, it has the ability to adjust the construction of reishi-based bodies to better fit the true nature of the soul. The determination of the form comes from within, not from the kidō."

Shunsui nodded, feeling like he was going down for the third time. "So, the kidō facilitates whatever changes the soul wants to make?" he tried.

That earned him a serious nod. "Yes. But it is a conscious process, which is why it cannot be used on someone who is not aware of their true nature."

"So... if someone doesn't consciously know what they want to be, the kidō won't work."

"Precisely."

"Okay." Happy that he'd finally grasped what Tessai was getting at, Shunsui sat back on his heels. "So, what's that got to do with the Kuchiki?"

Tessai pointed at the scroll. "Agata has been using that kidō on souls in utero."

"What-? How?" That made no sense at all. "You said it was a conscious process. How can she use it on a foetus?"

"I would assume by insinuating another's voice in as the secondary chant."

And they were back to fluent kidō. Regretting not having paid more attention in class, Shunsui tried to clarify. "She gets someone else to direct the change?"

"Yes. I've seen it done in other circumstances. When patients are unconscious or incapable of participating in the process, close friends or family members are occasionally brought in as a guiding force to allow healing to take place without input from the patient. But to use it like this," --Tessai jabbed his finger at the scroll where a long screed of kanji filled line after line-- "is despicable."

"Forbidden?" Shunsui asked hopefully. If it was, that would make his job even easier.

Tessai shook his head. "No, but only because no one would think to make it so. The dangers to both mother and child are so extreme only a fool would try it. Miscarriages, foetal abnormalities, stillbirths." As he spoke, he ripped one scroll after another off his lap and threw them back on the pile. "And all so they could have more powerful boys." His hand came to land heavily on the final scroll. "In the end, they conceived one naturally anyway, though he's not half as strong as his sisters would have been."

Shunsui thought about all the women he knew who were powerful shinigami and his heart hurt for those unborn Kuchiki. "Are there any charges we can bring against her for doing it?"

Again Tessai shook his head. "None that I can think of, sadly. Though I will do my best to ensure she is dismissed from the Corps, along with anyone else who had a hand in it."

Then they just had to find some other way of bringing her to justice. Pulling the diary from his shihakushō, Shunsui flipped it open to the right pages and asked again if there was some way of covering ink with kidō.

"Covering, no, but there is another method which rewrites things entirely." Taking the open book, Tessai laid his hand across the pages. He frowned, then his lips moved and a moment later the ink rippled, as though water was moving over it, and in its wake, the words changed entirely. 

Shunsui sat back, surprised. "I had no idea you could do that!"

"You can't. Or rather, you should not. The kidō is highly restricted since it manipulates time and space, albeit on a micro level."

A restricted kidō. Shunsui's heart leapt. "Would that be enough to get her prosecuted?" At some point, probably about halfway through Tessai's explanation of what Agata had done, Shunsui's priorities had shifted from Agata as witness to wanting to see her locked away.

Tessai inclined his head and raised his hand to reveal the new text. "If that is all we can find to bring her down, then I will happily offer myself up as sacrifice to make it happen."

Because he'd probably used a restricted kidō to break the one Agata had used. Shunsui grimaced. Much as he'd like to see Agata locked up, that didn't seem fair. "You should have said something before you broke it," he said and reached for the diary. "Let's see if there's something in here we can use before you start throwing yourself on any pyres." 

He only had to read halfway down the first page to know that there was. Starting from the first intimate moment between the two women, the text had changed. Gone were the salacious details that had put Shunsui in such a moral quandary. Now the words were more prosaic, outlining their growing relationship and Ueno's insistence that Agata spend more and more time with her, including one specific invitation:

> Shiori has asked me to join her at the Kuchiki estate next weekend. I am so excited to be asked and must endeavour to find some pieces of clothing that will not embarrass her ladyship. She tells me not to worry, and that the family is pleased enough with my work over the years that I could arrive dressed in a burlap sack and still be welcomed at the table. Even so, I will visit the dressmaker tomorrow.

That at least proved that there'd been a visit. But when?

Shunsui continued reading and soon found his answer, tacked on the end of an extensive and flowery description of the Kuchiki house and gardens.

> It is true that the estate is everything I dreamed it might be, however I cannot be truly happy. After confessing all to her husband this morning, Shiori has hardly spoken to me, and this evening after the meal, there were raised voices in the hallway. I was unable to ascertain if the argument was due to her confession of our affair or if there is something more going on, and so I have determined to ask her about it later, after she has returned from her audience with Kuchiki-sama.

This was the first Shunsui had heard of any meeting between Ueno and Hiromasa. Then again, the Kuchiki hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details, especially those that involved the family.

He turned the page, and stared at what he found. Agata's handwriting was normally neat and contained. This was anything but. Characters marched across the paper, drawn with violent furious strokes.

> How dare he do such a thing to my darling Shiori! Her work is her life! He cannot be allowed take it from her! And to do so in the hopes of her carrying a child to term is the height of foolishness. There are others far more suited to the task, something I am more than happy to tell Kuchiki-sama in person if necessary!
> 
> For now, my lovely Shiori sleeps, her cheeks still wet with tears of despair. After I have finished here, I will join her, and later, when we wake, we will go together to confront Kuchiki-sama and if necessary show him the error-

The final brushstroke skidded across the page like someone had grabbed the writer's hand to make them stop, and the next paragraph was one Shunsui recalled from before: Agata describing a breakfast she and Shiori had shared in Agata's apartments. From there onward nothing in the diary had been changed.

Shunsui sat back on his heels. It wasn't proof that Agata had been there the weekend Hiromasa was murdered, but it was more than enough to bring her in. Standing up, he patted Tessai on the shoulder. "Gather what you need," he said. "We have to get back to Shihōin-taichō immediately."

#

Their return set off a flurry of activity. Within minutes the documentation was inspected, copied and returned to the captain. While that was happening, Shunsui and Tessai gave verbal reports of what they'd found and then got grilled for details they'd mostly forgotten. After that, the might of Onmitsukidō really swung into gear. Six teams were assembled: four to create a perimeter around the Kidō Corps grounds, a snatch squad to pick up Agata when she got back to her rooms and one final team, led by Captain Shihōin herself, to convince the Kidō Corps Commander that Agata's arrest was both legal and necessary.

Shunsui hung around waiting to be assigned to one of them. When he wasn't, he presumed he was going with Tessai on the captain's team and so stood up to leave with them when they got ready to go. Shihōin-taichō waved him back. "Not this time, Kyōraku-kun. This needs to be Onmitsukidō only and you're assigned to the 8th."

But it was his plan! He'd done most of the work, taken all the risks! "Captain-!" he protested, only to be firmly overridden. 

"That is a direct order." Shihōin-taichō's golden eyes pinned him in place as she continued. "Do I have to put a guard on you to make sure you obey?"

Shunsui clamped his mouth shut, mind working furiously. Even if they left him behind, he could still slip through the shadows and catch up later on, with the snatch squad maybe. And once he was there, it'd be a lot harder to send him back. "No, Captain," he replied, dipping into a respectful bow.

He expected Shihōin-taichō to move off having got her answer. She didn't. When he rose, she was still there, staring at him, her gaze clever and calculating. "Hmm," she said after a moment. "I think perhaps I will anyway." She glanced at the doorway. "You and you," she said, indicating two shinigami outside her office door. "Please escort Kyōraku-fukutaichō to his room and remain with him until I return. Under no circumstances is he to leave."

As she spoke, Shunsui shot a desperate look over at Tessai in the hopes of getting some help from that quarter, him being a friend of Yoruichi's, but got only a frown and a slight head-shake for his trouble. And then the guards were bowing and chorusing, "Yes, captain," and the others were leaving and it was all over anyway. 

Shunsui watched them go, feeling leaden. The captain had said this was Onmitsukidō business and he was 8th division, which was true, but being left behind still felt like a punishment. Like he wasn't good enough to go with them. Like he was a disappointment.

It was a familiar feeling, though not one he'd felt for a good few years in this particular context. 

"Sir?"

The guards were waiting for him. Shunsui tucked all his memories of failing out of the family's line of business away and nodded at the guard. He'd have several hours to reflect on it all anyway.

#

Sake helped. Though there wasn't enough in his room to do more than dull the impact a little. Shunsui lay on his sleeping mat, bowl balanced on his chest and hat tipped forward over his eyes, and tried not to think. Still, a little voice in his head that sounded a lot like his Aunt Eimi kept pointing out that if he'd worked harder, done better, he could be with them now, part of the arrest and the interrogation that was bound to follow.

And Shunsui did want in on it. He'd been chewing over this case for months and this was the closest they'd come to a break. If there was any chance at all of Agata spilling the beans, then Shunsui wanted to be there to hear it, to ask further questions. To try and finally pry something resembling the truth out of her. 

The slide of wood from the direction of the door reminded Shunsui that it wasn't his decision to make. Every ten minutes or so, one of the guards came in to check he'd not slipped away and so far Shunsui hadn't been able to work out a method of fooling them. 

Steps sounded on the tatami. Shunsui raised a hand to stop the guard coming any closer, and they stopped, followed a moment or two later by a retreat and the soft sound of the door closing again. 

It was intrusive, annoying, and designed to keep him exactly where he was. With a heavy sigh, Shunsui craned his neck up just far enough to take a sip of his drink. If he could only escape, it would be a matter of moments to reach the cells. He wouldn't even have to step out of the shadows again when he got there, he could just stay in them and watch.

If he could just escape his guards.

_All shadows are one shadow._

OKyō's voice filled his head. Honestly, Shunsui hadn't known she could even speak, but there was no-none else that papery whisper could belong to. But why was she telling him something he already knew? He'd been familiar with that particular fact about shadows since she'd kicked his ass around in them for a month.

Irritated, Shunsui grabbed his hat to shift onto his side, and froze. She had kicked his ass through shadows. The ones in his inner world.

All shadows are one shadow.

Could he move through the shadows in his inner world like he did through the ones in the real world?

It wasn't impossible for physical things to move through his inner world, Shunsui knew that for a fact. The Ise sword was very definitely a physical object and it was now firmly embedded in his soul. Though how precisely Katen Kyōkotsu had managed that, Shunsui wasn't sure. He'd simply asked her if it was possible, and she'd manifest, grabbed the sword and vanished again taking it with her. Honestly, at the time, Shunsui had been too drunk and too upset to question the hows.

Now though he had to wonder, because if he could go inside himself and move through those shadows to somewhere else-

_You'd turn yourself inside out like a worm._

That was Ohana. Shunsui sat up, frowning in confusion. _'Worms don't turn inside out.'_

_Precisely._

Shunsui's frown became a grimace. Well, that seemed pretty clear. No physical travel through his own internal shadows. But perhaps mental travel was possible? 

Ohana's sigh was the sound of wind through bones. _Why must you always insist on following things through to their illogical conclusion?_

Because he came from a family who never knew when to let things go. 

Even given the risks, it had to be worth a try, though the quiet mutter of voices outside his door gave Shunsui pause. If he was doing this, he definitely didn't want to be interrupted by nosey guards. 

Quickly swigging back the last of his drink, he grabbed the mostly empty sake jug and rolled to his feet, tugging open the top of his borrowed uniform until the high-necked kosode showed an indecent amount of chest. Then a quick stagger step and he was at the door, which he yanked back with all the coordination of a true drunkard.

The two guards outside snapped into twin bows. "Kyōraku-fukutaichō."

"Eh, there's no need f'r all that formality," he slurred, practically falling against the door jamb and breathing sake fumes all over them. Jūshirō was going to lecture him so hard if word of this got back, but if it worked, it'd be worth it. "We'r'all friends here."

The guard on the left wrinkled his nose, so Shunsui targeted the other one. Raising the dangling sake jug to almost eye level, he gave her the puppy dog eyes. "Don't s'pose one of you lovelies 'd like to join me f'r a drink? S'lonely in here all by m'self." 

The guards exchanged glances, then the one on the right said, "I think you've probably had enough, sir. Why don't you go sleep it off."

Shunsui pouted. "Spoil sport." He reeled upright, grabbing for the door and missing, then trying again and coming close to grabbing the guard instead.

She stepped back hastily. "Don't worry about the door, sir, I'll close it for you."

"Ah, y'r an angel." He paused, swaying on the spot, and peered at her. "Last chance to say no."

The slightest of smiles twitched the corners of her mouth. "No, sir, but thank you."

"Eh, then I'll bid you g'night," he declared, raising the jug and pretending to take a deep drink. "I shall drink to y'r health all by m'self… Oh, that rhymes. Maybe I'm a potet… polet… po..." Muttering drunken nonsense under his breath, he staggered back towards his sleeping mat and collapsed face first onto it. 

Behind him, he heard one chuckle and one disapproving murmur and then the door was pulled shut. Shunsui relaxed. After that performance, he was pretty sure that neither of his guards were going to bother him for the rest of the night.

He rolled over, plonked his hat over his face and let himself sink into his inner world.

Ohana met him with a clip round the ear. "Ow!" he protested, ducking to avoid the next one. "What was that for?"

"Because you have no sense of decency," she retorted, the wind whipping around her sending petals flying.

Shunsui grabbed for his hat and beat a hasty retreat. He knew this kind of mood and he was never going to win anything resembling a fight with her. 

It was nowhere near as easy to navigate the shadows of his inner world as it was those of the real world. They were denser, somehow, and when he reached out with that seventh sense, that whatever-it-was that allowed him to ride the currents of the shadowlands, all that came back to him was echoes. Voices, reiatsu, an undefinable somethingness that told him living creatures occupied this place or that. And between those spots of stability lay spaces, voids of nothing that would love nothing more than to suck him down forever. The constant flux and flow of it reminded him of the dangai, and like that strange and multi-focused plane, it would be terrifyingly easy to get wrecked on the shoals.

What he needed was a lodestar or a target, something to guide his way. Something bright and unmistakable, like Shihōin-taichō's reiatsu, since she was unlikely to let the prisoner stray too far from her sight. All he had to do was locate it.

Tentatively he reached out and, when nothing came back to bite him, reached further. There it was, the blaze of a midday sun combined with the screaming stoop of a hawk that said Shihōin Hiruko. 

He arrowed towards it, only long years of practicing a swordmaster's discipline bringing him up short before he could take that final fatal step. He danced back, distantly aware of his heart thumping in his chest - he had no desire to end up inside-out - and peered out of the shadows. 

Shihōin-taichō sat at her desk, and she wasn't alone. Two Onmitsukidō officers stood to attention opposite her as she studied whatever report it was they'd delivered. It had to be important to keep her from the interrogation, Shunsui was sure of that much, though he couldn't fathom what might take precedence over this murder case.

More interestingly from his point of view though was: if she wasn't supervising the interrogation, who was? 

Really there was only one possibility, and it was a work of moments to locate the claw-in-the-back darkness of Yoruichi's reiatsu. He homed in on her and found her lurking just outside a cell, one of the Onmitsukidō ones, and she wasn't alone either. Beside her, a familiar lanky frame with tousled blonde hair drew itself upright when Shunsui arrived and peered into the shadows, grey eyes bright even in the dim underground lighting. 

Shunsui took a rapid mental step back, hearing Yoruichi say, "Is he there? Grandma said to watch out for him."

In the long silence that followed, Shunsui thought for sure he'd been caught, and then Kisuke said, "No. I thought for a second but… no. There's no one there."

Close call, and something to be aware of. Just because his body wasn't with him didn't mean he was undetectable.

Toisaka's cool burn radiated from the adjoining cell, and that, along with his and Agata's voices, told Shunsui where he needed to go next. 

Carefully this time, he oozed his way towards Toisaka, the scene resolving into fuzzy visibility as he cautiously reached his target. 

The first time Shunsui had met the Head of Onmitsukidō's Interrogation Corps, he'd been surprised by the man's politeness and reserve. But that had been very different Toisaka. The man looming over Agata now was flushed with rage, his mouth twisted into a snarl as he punctuated the air with sharp stabs of his finger. "Tell me the truth!"

Agata herself was on her knees, flanked by guards, hands bound in front of her with reiatsu suppressing manacles. Her Kidō Corps robes were gone; she was down to a simple shitagi; but for all her change in fortune, she still looked defiant as she glared up at Toisaka.

"I didn't kill him! I told you! It wasn't me!"

"And I have the evidence, means and motive that says you did!" Toisaka waved the diary at her. "The dressmaker and your landlady both confirm it was the right weekend. As medical liaison you have access to the sedatives, and you say yourself that you'll do anything it takes to stop Ueno losing her job." He threw the book at Agata, literally, making her flinch as it hit her in the chest. "Tell me how that's not enough to get you the death penalty!"

Agata's chin trembled - she really wasn't as stoic as Shunsui had first thought - and gazed down at the diary on her lap. "I don't know," she said. "But I swear it wasn't me."

Toisaka swung away from her, tugging at the collar of his uniform. "Fine. Let's say you're telling the truth. Who else could it have been?"

"A guard? One of the servants?" Agata suggested, handling the diary like it was an unexploded device.

"Neither of those would have the skills for the kind of concealment kidō needed to enter the sento unseen," Toisaka shot back with a dismissive hand-wave. "You and I both know that kind of skill takes more than their paltry level of reiatsu."

"Then I don't know!" Agata insisted. "I just don't! Everything happened the way I told you!"

"Hm," Toisaka grunted. "Let's go through that again, shall we? Start with Ueno finding you writing in the diary."

Agata grimaced, shaking her head a little. "She was cross. Really cross. She grabbed the brush out of my hand and threw it across the room. I had no right, she said, talking about Kuchiki business like that, and who did I think I was, just because my family had been working with them for so long, it didn't give me the right to an opinion." The air whistled in Agata's nose as she took a deep breath. "But she didn't mean it. Not really. She was just sad and scared after that person said he was going to take her job away. She loves her job. It means everything to her-"

"What happened then?" Toisaka asked, ruthlessly riding roughshod over her plea.

Agata rubbed her face, obviously trying to regroup muddled thoughts. "Then… we went to bed."

"The servants?"

"Shiori-sama sent them away. She often did. She prefers me to brush her hair."

"And you slept."

"Eventually." Colour flushed the tops of Agata's cheeks, and her gaze cut away. "Shiori-sama wanted to make love first. Though honestly neither of us were really in the mood."

"And then?"

"Then, nothing. We woke up the next day and Kuchiki-sama was dead." There was an edge of desperation to Agata's voice. "I swear, we didn't hear or see anything strange. We only knew it had happened because the maid told us!"

"You slept the whole night through? No trips to the toilet, or for a drink?"

"No, nothing. I don't remember anything between falling asleep and the maid waking us the next morning." A sad kind of smile crossed her face. "Maybe if we hadn't slept so deeply, we might have heard something and been able to help."

Toisaka snorted. "Somehow I can't see Ueno Shiori being much good in a fight."

"That's not true!" Agata protested, coming up on her knees. "She learned all the kidō I taught her with no problems at all! She's good, strong-!"

"Strong enough to kill Kuchiki Hiromasa alone?"

Agata's mouth opened, a retort obvious on her lips before she realized exactly what Toisaka had got her to imply. Her eyes widened, turning scared, and her mouth formed a silent, 'No'.

"No, not strong enough? Because I would beg to differ!" Toisaka snapped, grabbing a bundle of paperwork from his desk. The copies of the Kuchiki medical records they'd made, Shunsui realised. The ones that declared Ueno Shiori had enough reiatsu to undergo nine rounds of Agata's so-called treatment.

"No. No," Agata repeated, shaking her head. She was backing away, as though putting some distance between her and Toisaka would help confirm her denial.

Toisaka was having none of it. He turned on her, eyes blazing. "And I say yes! Ueno Shiori is guilty! She killed her clanhead, in cold blood, to stop him stripping her of her rank and titles. She wanted to keep her job so badly, that she crept from your bed and, using a concealment bakudō that you yourself taught her, managed to enter the sento unseen by any of the guards. Once there, she used the sedative to drug Kuchiki Hiromasa and then took advantage of his incapacitated state to slit his throat." With a ear aching roar, Toisaka concluded, "Are you denying that she did?!"

"Yes!" Agata shrieked. "She wouldn't do that- She wouldn't-" Her gaze flicked around desperately, as though searching for something that would backup her words, and then she straightened, her quivering mouth firming and jaw clenching. "She didn't do it, because it was me. I killed him!" The confession was spat out, ironhard and contemptuous, a challenge to Toisaka to prove her wrong.

"Liar!"

"It's the truth! I did it. I did it all. It was me. I killed him! You already proved it-!"

The smack echoed around the cell, a violent punctuation that rendered even Agata's protests silent for a moment. Her bound hands rose to her face as she looked up, grey eyes wet with tears but still resolute in their denial, and for a moment all Shunsui could see was Ise-neesan. 

Had his sister-in-law been brought here before her execution? Locked in these cold and inhospitable cells for interrogation? Had Toisaka loomed over her and demanded she tell him the truth? Had she spat lies back in his face and demanded that he believe them.

Had she faced the terror of certain conviction, of certain death, all to protect Shunsui?

He'd seen enough. Onmitsukidō had their scapegoat. With that confession, Shunsui had no doubt that Agata would die for her part in Hiromasa's murder, even when everyone knew it had been her lover's hand that held the knife.

He retreated back into the shadows, returning to his mindless body and, once there, made a decision. He couldn't stay and witness any more. In truth, he had no desire to stay at all. 

Sweeping up his swords, he entered the shadows once again, this time leaving the room entirely. At some point the guards would notice he was gone and raise the alarm, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The hatred in his heart had grown past the point of concealment, his self-disgust now a writhing twisting darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

So he ran into it, let the shadows take and eat him, not caring where they spit him out, or if they even would at all. They swirled around him, full of almost shapes and radiant sounds. Shunsui pressed on, aware only of the memories dragging him down. Nee-san. Always kind, always generous, she'd taken an unloved boy and made him feel like he was something special. She'd given him hope, in a world where he'd been deemed hopeless. Given care, when before there'd been only dismissal. 

That rock of belief had stuck with him, through his brother's death and his estrangement from his clan. Through failure after failure, until finally under Yama-jii's tutelage he'd found his forte and a place to stand and shine.

Then she'd come to him, that women with the kind grey eyes, and asked him to carry the burden of her death. Though he'd not known it at the time. If he had, he would have done everything in his power to stop it happening. Anything to stop her being executed. Thrown himself in front of the executioner's blade, if that's what it would have taken.

Instead, she'd done that for him. Gone to the gallows with her head held high because she'd been nothing if not full of courage.

She'd been the same when her and Brother had decided to marry, Shunsui remembered. His brother had been nervous, but she was so determined. If she cut off all ties to the Ise, then they'd be free of the curse, she was sure. And her conviction had convinced everyone else. The whole family had bought into it, and the day of the wedding had been a celebration the like of which Shunsui couldn't remember before nor since. 

The happy years that followed had been among the best in Shunsui's life and had lulled everyone into misbegotten security. The Kyōraku clan flourished, buoyed by the love and care at its centre, and Brother had become a different man; joyous and life-embracing rather than strict and overbearing. Shunsui had thrived too, his carefree nature finding a natural ally in nee-san's newfound freedom.

And then Brother had fallen ill. Only a cold, the doctors had insisted at first, and it was true that he did recover, that first time. It was the subsequent bouts that took their toll, following one after another, seeming to drain the very life from the vital vigorous man, until only a husk remained.

There'd been tears. Recriminations. Shunsui remembered listening, huddled between the black pines against the wall of the house, as nee-san insisted that it must be the curse, that she had to be allowed to leave. Brother wouldn't let her. They fought, nee-san in tears as she told him that all she wanted was to save his life. 

'It wouldn't be a life without you in it,' he'd replied, exhaustion turning his voice into a thready version of itself. 'I know it's selfish, but stay, please. I love you too much to let you go.'

So she had. Stayed and suffered alongside him. For years, it seemed like, the house became a morgue, inhabited by twin corpses that had just forgotten to die. Shunsui crept alongside them, the chill fingers of their mutual fates threatening to drag him down with them, until the fateful morning came and Brother moved no more.

The whole world seemed to die then. For nee-san and Shunsui anyway. He remembered the depths of her despair, a physical palpable thing of suffocating pain and loneliness. And his own after she left, abandoned by everyone who'd loved him.

He sank back into the feeling now, the twisting break in his heart welcoming the physical pain that came with it, pressing in on him, a soaking cloth blocking breath, a tightening band around his chest-

_It is only pain. An easy burden to bear. One your brother bore without complaint._

It was true. Never once had Shunsui heard him mutter even one word of protest. He loved nee-san too much for that. 

_She was worthy of love. Worthy of everything he gave her._

That too was true.

Shunsui sank deeper, the echoes of Katen Kyōkotsu's words swirling after him in vortexes of memories and dreams. Of an adolescent crush on a beautiful woman metamorphosing into something deeper and longer lasting. Of the hot thrust of pubescent lust turned broader and more generous, until it became something foundational to Shunsui's very existence. 

Love. 

Of nee-san. And through her, of others. Love that went beyond the sticky exploits of sex, that discarded the smitten blinkers of romance and lifted the heavy bonds of familial duty. Loving her was transcendental to all of that, it was all encompassing. To love her was to give up everything.

_Even your own life?_

Probably. He'd certainly not have thought twice before throwing himself between her and the executioner's blade.

_Better it had been your life than hers._

Truth, again. Shunsui twisted under it, guilt rising to claim him yet again, its dark fingers clawing at the tatters of his heart.

Because it should have been him. He should have done more, should have been more, stronger, faster, more knowing. 

And yet...

The band around his chest tightened further. 

...dying now would not bring her back.

In fact, dying now would mean turning his back on the deal he'd made with her to protect Nanao.

_The other will do that._

An image of a man embracing a smiling child filled his mind, a fall of familiar white hair concealing an expression that Shunsui knew would be kind. Because Jūshirō was always kind when there were children involved.

But he would be sad as well. Much as they might shy away from expressing their feelings for each other openly, there was no doubt in Shunsui's mind that Jūshirō loved him, and that he, in turn, loved Jūshirō back, equally, if not more than he'd loved neesan-

A piercing shriek, accompanied by jerking pain, lanced through him and the image blurred to red and black. Shunsui gasped, found lungs stagnant and empty and with the sudden brutal clarity of the condemned, realised that he was dying. 

His eyes flew open, and saw nothing except darkness, textured and deep like the endless roil of the ocean. 

A nightmare? No. No dream this, but reality. Of an kind, anyway.

'Ohana!' he roared, and heard nothing as his very breath was subsumed by the void. A stuttering panic gripped him momentarily, but he shoved it down as, before him, the world shimmered and a figure stepped into view. Ohana. She'd tried to kill him before. Was it her who was trying again now?

The alleviation of pressure around his chest as she appeared suggested otherwise, as did the way grass firmed up beneath his feet and the wavering arch of shadow over Ohana's head solidified into a tree. If she'd brought him back to the garden of his inner world, they were probably past the crisis point. Unless she was lulling him into a false sense of security. 

But that way lay true paranoia, and so Shunsui lifted his chin and asked the single question he needed answering. 'Why?' 

Ohana fixed him with an unwavering gaze, her single eye brightly piercing. _Because you refuse to fight._

That made no sense. Shunsui was shinigami down to his bones, and shinigami were fighters above all else.

Still, some part of him squirmed in uncomfortable recognition of her words, because wielding sword and kidō with a master's skill against hollows didn't give you a true fighter's heart and, historically, when things got tough, Shunsui did have a habit of turning his back and walking away. He'd done so to his brother, his clan, his birthright. 

To nee-san.

If he'd fought for them as hard as he fought for the Gotei, maybe things would have turned out differently. 

_Not them. Us._

A second figure joined the first, this one small and slender, almost childlike, though the look Okyō gave him was far from childlike in tone. 

"I've fought you, damn it," Shunsui protested. "For shikai" -he gestured at Ohana before turning his attention to Okyō- "And you for Kageoni just this past month. The only other reason to fight you is bankai, and you keep saying-"

_'Not against us, for us.'_

All colour washed from the two spirits as the light dimmed once again, casting the world into shades of grey and black, and a mourning wail filled the air. Despair gripped Shunsui's heart and he fell to his knees as past failures flooded back into his mind -nee-san, his brother, his clan, Jūshirō- and now his zanpakutō as well. Failed them by not fighting for them, because he never fought for anything he truly cared about.

_'If you had fought. You might have lost.'_

And the shame of failure had seemed unbearable, so instead he'd burdened himself with the shame of never having tried at all.

The burden was heavy. It dragged at him, pulling him deeper into darkness, further into despair. He didn't deserve to live, and there was no one who would care-

A face flashed into his mind; green eyed and white-haired, gentle and kind, or stern when needed. Laughing, smiling, loving. Jūshirō. Jūshirō loved him. Jūshirō would care-

_'No, he doesn't. He hid her sentence from you.'_

Only to save Shunsui's life, because he'd known that the moment Shunsui found out what Central had done, Shunsui would try to save her.

He'd known that Shunsui would fight.

Because Shunsui was a fighter.

_'Then fight, damn you!'_

The blades came from the darkness, and it was a fighter's instinct that met them, sparks flying like firey blossoms as metal scraped against metal. The shockwaves of the contact sent an earthquake through Shunsui's body. And through his mind. It was like being jerked awake in the middle of a nightmare, consciousness suddenly returning and there they were, Ohana and Okyō, coming one after the other, attack and retreat, attack and retreat, while Shunsui did his best to hold his own. 

Except something was very very wrong. The spirits might be there but they were still colourless, their eyes blank, faces expressionless masks. And their movements… They were still skilled, still dangerous, but Shunsui had fought both of them before, he knew them, knew their styles and their way of being as they fought and this wasn't it. They were slower, more laboured, predictable, as if something - someone - else was controlling them. Like they were puppets.

But who? What?

The mourning wail rose to a crescendo and a curl of despair washed over him again, making him stagger as images of nee-san flooded his mind. Beloved nee-san. His first love. His only. And finally he knew, finally he understood. 

The Ise curse. It had to be. Accepting and hiding the sword must have brought the curse on himself somehow. All this; the deadening despair, the desire to give up on life; were manifestations of it in his soul. 

And, unsurprisingly, it had gotten to Katen Kyōkotsu as well, turning them on him in an attempt to lay him low, to make him give up and just die. 

Well, screw that. Shunsui's brother might have turned up his toes in the face of it, but Shunsui wasn't him. He was going to fight, damn it!

A pained cry penetrated the haze of his thoughts as heat splattered across his face. Shunsui opened his eyes to see Okyō reeling away from him, her mask peeling back to reveal a deep wound slicing up her throat and cheek. Bright red blood sheeted down pale skin as blue eyes burned with pain. 

It hurt to see, but it was a definite improvement on her expressionless mask from before. 

He didn't get much of a chance to dwell on the implications though. Ohana was on him in a heartbeat, eyes blazing and face alive with fury. She was back to herself entirely, and now Shunsui had a real fight on his hands. Swords clashed, sparks flew, reitsu surged and crashed around them. Given no choice if he wanted to survive --and he did; for what felt like the first time in forever, he really truly did-- Shunsui met and matched it, riding out the assault, and as he did so, as they fought, he realised that on some level, this was different from their usual battles. 

There was a rhythm to it. A pace. But one that held a tantalising familiarity, like a word hovering on the tip of his tongue. Like, if he could just identify it. Just focus. Just…

The ferocity of Ohana's attack redoubled, driving Shunsui back on his heels and every thought temporarily from his mind. Around them, their combined reiatsu grew chokingly thick making Shunsui gasp for air.

Attrition, he realised, when he could think again. This was a battle to the end. That was the difference. Here and now, Ohana would give him no quarter, and if he didn't defeat her, and quickly, then she would have him, through sword or reiatsu or both.

He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't. He had too much to live for. Jūshirō, their plans for the future; his career. Bankai.

His sword found flesh at the same moment as hers and he felt it pierce through and true, a splitting burn that opened him front to back. Breath stopped, pinned like a butterfly, its frantic wings his heart's attempt to beat. 

Ohana was hot against him, her blood warm over his fist, almost lost in the silk of their clothes where their bodies touched, mutually impaled. Her gaze searched his, looking for something, though Shunsui had no idea what. 

But he thought he might understand why. Dropping his head forward until it rested against the the crown of her hair, he used the last of his breath to whisper, "I won't let the curse take you. Or me. We're together. Always. Forever."

That seemed to get through. Her body shuddered and against his neck came hot breath scented with flowers and decay. "Together," she breathed. "Promise me, when we go, it will be together."

"Of course." It could be no other way. They were one, after all. 

Ohana pulled back and their eyes met once again. She raised her hand, resting it on Shunsui's cheek. "I'm going to hold you to that, idiot." 

Something smacked Shunsui hard in the side of the head. His eyes popped open reflexively, and he found himself lying on his back, looking up through withered black branches that slashed the sky into pockets of blue and white. Beneath him, the ground pressed cold and damp against his spine. 

He inhaled. Breath rushed into his lungs driving out the unseasonal smell of flowers, and leaving behind a crisp searing chill somewhat reminiscent of a recent sword wound. This had to be reality, he thought. Real reality. Not his inner world, nor some weird in-between place conjured by the damned curse, but the real world outside of his head. 

Also, someone was holding a knife to his throat.

For the longest second Shunsui was tempted to turn his head, to let that line of pressure bloom into terminal scarlet in fulfillment of the pact he'd just made with Katen Kyōkotsu, and then someone snapped in a strained voice, "By the Soul King's balls, boy, if you don't rein it back in, I will end you myself!"

The order by-passed Shunsui's brain entirely, and his reiatsu snapped back under control with enough force to make him cry out. Which was when the hangover hit. With a groaning lurch, he pitched onto his side, sake jugs clattering and rolling around him, and emptied his stomach onto the ground. He could only be grateful that Eimi-bachan was quick enough to move her knife to stop him actually killing himself.

"Finally," she gasped, slumping against him and probably not uncoincidentally stopping him from moving out of the growing puddle of stinking vomit. "Don't you know better than to go into bankai drunk, boy?" It sounded like she'd been having problems catching her breath, though it wasn't that which struck Shunsui as odd. 

Digging one fist into a clean bit of needle-cushioned dirt, he blinked over his shoulder at her. "Bankai?"

She levelled a look at him that was all Aunt Eimi, dripping with judgement and tinged with disappointment. Beneath her scraped back, steel-grey hair, her face was ghastly pale, her lips verging on blue, and now he was slightly more conscious, Shunsui could sense the grinding strain in her reiatsu, like something had been eroding it. "Had to be bankai," she croaked and, shifting, slid her knife back into its ankle sheath. "I know your reiatsu, boy, and it's never been as twisted as that." She stretched, cautiously, and then with more vigour, which finally let Shunsui move as well.

Bankai? Sitting up, Shunsui peered inside himself, expecting to see some great change. Or at least some fall out from what they'd just experienced. All he found was a smug looking Ohana sitting beside him on the rug, sipping from her usual bowl of sake. 

She raised an single eyebrow at him. _'Did you want something?'_

If he had achieved bankai, then shouldn't he have the name of it to compel her? That was how these things typically worked, or so they taught at Academy anyway. To obtain bankai, you fought your zanpakutō and forced it to give up the name of its true power.

Well, they'd definitely fought, but he didn't remember any words.

Or maybe there had been. Tied up in movement and hidden behind blades. He remembered reaching for it. 

Memory, more physical than mental, clicked inside his head, and suddenly with blinding clarity, he knew. _Katen Kyōkotsu: Karamatsu Shinjū;_ the true name of his bankai. And with it came knowledge, awareness, understanding of the 'something' that took him and Katen Kyōkotsu as individuals and turned them, together, into something different, something more. Something infinitely stronger.

He had done it! They had done it!

Ohana's amused snort followed him back into the real world, where he found Aunt Eimi up on her feet and standing over him. He grinned up at her. He had to, because he'd done it! He had bankai!

"I have bankai!"

"That you do, boy," she replied. "And a foul one it is. Like being hit by soul poison." She spat on the ground. "I've half a dozen youngsters back at the house tried to slit their own throats when they felt it." 

Shunsui's stomach sank, the bloom of excitement fading under her judgemental words. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." His head throbbed and he pressed fingers to his forehead, only aware that he'd hidden his face in his hands when he felt Aunt Eimi's fingers brush the top of his head. 

"If it was your first time, then you weren't to know. Just… do yourself and the rest of the world a favour and never use that thing when there's anyone else around."

"I won't. I promise." Though how he was supposed to train in that case he had no idea. But he'd find a way, because he refused to become the type of person who sacrificed innocents in pursuit of his own power.

A palpable silence came from Aunt Eimi then, one that lasted until Shunsui realised she was waiting to say more and lifted his head to look at her. Silhouetted against the sky, it was difficult to see the expression on her face, but the set of her shoulders was kindly, as was the gentle sigh she let out. She hunkered down, and now he could see the pity in her eyes. "If you need somewhere to train, go see the Shiba," she said, reaching out as though to touch him. "They've well-shielded places out in Rukongai and are happy to let others use them."

Shunsui glanced down at the hand that hovered just above his arm, and nodded. "I'll do that. Thank you, Eimi-bachan." Hard fingers closed briefly around his wrist and then she was gone, with nothing but a swirl of disturbed air left in her wake.

The world felt achingly empty without her. Part of Shunsui wanted to follow, go back to the clan house just for the sake of feeling a part of something alive. But he wouldn't be welcome, and for once it would be for reasons other than him being head of the deposed line. 

How could a bankai make someone want to kill themselves? And what kind of a bankai was that anyway?

The only one he was acquainted with personally was Yama-jii's Ryūjin Jakka: Zanka no Tachi, and that was fire. Fire made sense. You could kill hollows with fire, you couldn't force them to commit suicide. Could you?

He didn't know. Nor did he understand. What he needed was a cooler head than his own, and for Shunsui that meant only one person. 

Grabbing his hat and angling the brim to keep the sun from his hungover eyes, he set off slowly back towards Seireitei. 

When he arrived at the 13th, he was met with disappointment, and the kind of controlled chaos that meant something serious was going down. "I'm sorry, sir," gabbled the young officer he managed to snag out of the rushing ranks for an explanation, "but the jūreichi started shifting this morning without any warning at all and things aren't really set up in the new one and-"

"Ukitake's out organising things," Shunsui finished for her. 

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Yes, sir."

Of course he was, because, unlike Shunsui, Jūshirō was a responsible lieutenant who followed orders. "Any idea when he's likely to be back?"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir." Denying him definitely brought a crestfallen look to the young officer's face, but she perked up again straight afterwards. "Though, I could take a message for him, if you'd like."

A message that said what? I've achieved bankai and don't know what to do with it? That didn't seem very helpful to anyone. Shunsui shook his head. "It's nothing that can't wait. In fact, don't tell him I was here at all. There's no point in giving him more things to worry about."

The grateful look returned briefly as the officer bowed, and then she disappeared again back into the scrum of busy shinigami, Shunsui's presence probably already replaced in her mind with more important things.

Feeling very much alone, Shunsui went to leave, only to be greeted at the gate by the guards he'd walked out on the night before. He pulled up short, give them a wary look. They must have been searching for him all day, going by the shadows under their eyes, and he felt a brief stab of guilt for the trouble they'd undoubtedly ended up in for losing him.

Not that you could have told from their manners. "Good evening, Kyōraku-fukutaichō," they chorused, dropping into neat bows in front of him and, not incidentally, blocking his main escape route.

"Aha! You found me," he replied, angling his hat up in a way that he hoped made him look unthreatening. "I was just paying a visit to my good friends at the 13th but, unfortunately they're now all terribly busy, so I have no choice but to leave. Isn't that sad."

One of the guards shot a glance at the gate. "You were there all day, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, yes," Shunsui assured her. "It's a terrible fault of mine. When I get drunk you see, I have a tendency to wander and this time my wanderings brought me to the 13th." He patted her on the shoulder as he pushed past, noting the extra resistance put up by the male member of the duo. Not so willing to accept excuses at face value, Shunsui suspected. "But now you've come to find me, so I assume I'm wanted back at the 8th. Excellent timing. Let's go, let's go."

Given little choice, the pair fell into step behind him, thankfully leaving Shunsui enough mental space to think through what their presence meant for his reception back at the division. 

Considering they'd turned up alone, it seemed likely that they'd not reported him missing. Which was strange. Shunsui had expected Shihōin-taichō to keep closer tabs on him than that. But, if it kept them all from a severe scolding or worse, he wasn't about to complain. Or confess.

With that in mind, he kept his demeanour relaxed as he entered the 8th, only to be confronted by a similar level controlled chaos to the one he'd left at the 13th. 

No, that wasn't true. There was a lot of activity, more than you'd expect for a quiet evening in early winter, but it wasn't the whole of the division. Making his way across the yard towards the main building, Shunsui could see that all those on the move were Onmitsukidō. The few 8th division people he could see out and about were merely watching, whilst doing their best to stay out of the way. So, whatever this was, it was an Onmitsukidō problem, not a Gotei one. 

Ueno? It was the only thing Shunsui could think of. And arresting a member of a True First clan, even a married out branch member, would be enough to create a ruckus.

Though not, he thought as a troop of ninja flashed by, one quite this big. 

He broke into a trot himself, hurrying up the broad front steps and towards the captain's office. He had no idea if Shihōin-taichō actually wanted to see him but he was going there anyway. In the months he'd been attached to the 8th, he'd come to think of it as home, and if there was something going down that was impacting them, he wanted to know what it was.

Bypassing the steady stream of Onmitsukidō officers flooding in and out of the captain's office, he bulled his way to the front and dropped to one knee. "Reporting for duty, Shihōin-taichō."

"Kyōraku, there you are. Slept it off finally. I was beginning to think-" 

The words stopped. Shunsui looked up to find Shihōin-taichō staring at him, golden eyes wide. "Captain?"

She visibly shook herself, and took a breath. "You have bankai." 

"Ah." Crap, this was not going to be easy to explain. Especially if the captain thought he'd been safe in his room all night. But there was no denying it. "Um. Yes?"

"Eimi said she found you up at the clan house, sleeping it off under a bush, but she didn't say anything about-" Again, Shihōin-taichō shook herself. "I don't have time for this right now. Though your timing is absolutely perfect." 

Levelling a gaze at Shunsui that felt like it pierced his soul, she continued, "Onmitsukidō has urgent business in the living world. I'm likely to be away for weeks, if not months. So, as of right now, I am handing the 8th over to you, Acting Captain Kyōraku."


	5. Fishing for Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jushiro makes his final push for bankai.

After his night making love with Shunsui among the flowers, Jūshirō decided it was about time he took his own advice about promotion. So, over the next few weeks, he spent every spare minute he could find trying to come up with techniques that might pass muster as a bankai. He made progress, but it was all theoretical progress. What Jūshirō really needed was a chance to try out some of his ideas in the real world.

To that end, he approached the Kidō Corps and, after calling in a few favours, managed to book the services of a barrier team, three evenings a week for a month. For someone truly trying to achieve bankai that would be nothing. For Jūshirō, who was only looking to fake it, it should just about do.

Then, a few days before his booking was due to start, Isoarashi called him into his office.

"They've named the new jūreichi," the captain said by way of greeting and began easing himself down behind his writing desk. 

"Already?" Jūshirō said, hurrying to help. Isoarashi actually allowed him for once, which was a surprise, though possibly less so considering how much the swelling in his legs and feet had increased recently. Not that the old man let it slow him down. 'I'll rest when I'm dead,' he'd say when Jūshirō reminded him of Unohana-taichō's medical advice. 'And anyway, you can't keep fussing over me, you need time to train. How's that bankai of yours coming along?'

Which was Isoarashi-taichō's unsubtle way of reminding Jūshirō of the promise he'd made to be ready to take over within the year. 

Not that that was going to be so easy now. A new jūreichi meant all hands would be needed and no time off, not even for training. Stomach clenching, Jūshirō stepped back around the desk as Isoarashi continued, "I want you co-ordinating the scouting parties. You know the protocols. First priority is anchoring coordinates for incoming senkaimon. Somewhere safe and secluded. It's vital we have ingress routes in case back-up's needed."

"Yes, sir," Jūshirō replied, taking his own seat with an impending sense of doom. He hated letting people down.

Isoarashi wasn't finished. Gnarled fingers counting off the points, he went on, "Then, and only then, you can move on to identifying and monitoring the most likely incursion points. Those will form the structure for future patrols routes, so you must ensure you don't miss any." Isoarashi looked up. "Make sure you pay special attention to infants, their reitsu signatures can be deceptive, and don't let yourself get distracted by hollows. Their numbers are going to be rising as well." 

"Yes, sir," Jūshirō said again, trying to put all other thoughts out of his mind. The transition had to be his priority right now, not training. 

"Maroka-goseki will be your second. He's had previous experience scouting out new jūreichi, so you shouldn't end up too far out of your depth. The others will help too, so don't be afraid to ask questions." 

"It'll be fine, sir." The answer came automatically as he reached for the teapot. "In fact I'm looking forward to it." Which, despite everything, was true. Managing the jūreichi was the 13th's reason for existing, after all, and transition was something even the lowest ranking shinigami in their division had more experience of than him. Being a squad member while it actually happened would change all that. 

It was just the timing of it. A duty like this could take months, and he'd only managed to book the time he had with the Kidō Corps by calling in favours. His chances of being able to do it again at some point in the future was remote, which would mean he wouldn't be able to do any real training until late spring at the earliest. 

Back in May, he'd promised Isoarashi a year, and Jūshirō planned to do everything in his power to fulfill that promise, but with an already narrow time window closing still further, he was worried that he'd end up letting the old man down. 

Pouring them both tea, he tried not to let his feelings show but the bright eyes regarding him intently when he offered his captain the steaming bowl suggested he'd not been as successful as he'd hoped. 

"I _am_ looking forward to it," he reiterated, his conscience forcing him to look away. "I am." Saying more was only going to harm his case, yet he was entirely unable to stop himself. "It'll make me feel like I really belong here. It's just…"

Words failed him. Luckily Isoarashi was wise enough to pick up on what Jūshirō wasn't saying. Lifting his bowl to sip his tea, he said, "You're worried won't have time to train while you're away."

Jūshirō mirrored the movement, using the bowl to conceal his grimace of embarrassment. "It doesn't matter. I can make up for it in the spring." 

Isoarashi's gaze didn't falter for a second. "How close are you, exactly?"

To producing a convincing enough simulacrum of bankai to pass the captain's test? Jūshirō took a breath and lowered his tea bowl. "A few weeks, I think." If his ideas worked. And if they didn't… Well, he was going to have to reconsider the whole thing anyway, and that didn't bear thinking about. But they would work, he was sure they would, if he could just practice them somewhere safe. "What I really need is a large, secure training space, with some really good barriers just to make sure I don't hurt anyone."

Understanding dawned. "An area of effect bankai. Of course, of course." Isoarashi reached out and patted Jūshirō's hand. "You should have said something before, my boy. The Kidō Corps will help out, I'm sure."

"I'd booked it, sir. It was supposed to start tomorrow evening." 

"I see." Isoarashi hummed under his breath. "Can't you book again when you get back?"

"Not until I know when and even then…" Jūshirō took a breath and placed his tea-bowl carefully on the table in front of him. "I had to call in a few favours to get the time as quickly as I did." A self-deprecating little laugh crept out. "I don't think most people have such tight time limits."

Isoarashi snorted quietly. "You're undoubtedly right there. Isn't there anyone else you can use?"

Who could supply the kind of barrier he was going to need to release even a fraction of Mimihagi's power? Such a person would have to be a kidō master, as the very least.

"I suppose…" he began, a plan taking tentative shape in his mind. "I could ask Onigawa-sensei." A trip out there would also come with the added bonus of a visit with Sōsuke-kun. Jūshirō had been feeling more than a little guilty about how little he'd seen of the boy; gifts were no substitute for attention.

"Onigawa?" Isoarashi's eyes widened and he leaned away from the table. "Interesting choice, though she was certainly strong enough in her day. I daresay she'll also charge you a pretty penny for the privilege."

Jūshirō couldn't help grinning as he took a sip of tea. Apparently Isoarashi-taichō knew Onigawa quite well. "It'll be worth it, sir. She was my teacher in Academy, so I know she'll be able to do exactly what I want." Nor would she ask awkward questions, unlike the still serving members of the Kidō Corps.

"That's true." Isoarashi shifted uncomfortably and frowned. "Well, if that's your plan, we'd better make sure you can get out there before the weather closes in. How about you handle the initial sweeps, just to get a feel for the place and let Kotetsu-kun take over organising the new patrol schedules." He levelled a look across the table at Jūshirō. "That'll take about a month and then you can go out to Onigawa's to train as much as you need. Will that be helpful?"

It was more than Jūshirō could have hoped for, though going by the amused expression on Isoarashi's face, his thanks might have been a little on the effusive side. "Now, now, don't get too carried away, my boy," Isoarashi said eventually, tugging on Jūshirō's sleeve to get him to stand up. "There's method in my generosity. After all, if this goes well, I'm planning on being retired by New Year." 

"I'll be ready, sir," Jūshirō replied, dropping into yet another deep bow. "I promise, I'll be ready.

#

A little over a month later, Jūshirō was even more determined to do right by his captain and take charge of the 13th. Mapping the new jūreichi had been fascinating work; how had he never realised what amazing creatures humans were, and what curious lives they led! He couldn't wait to find out more.

And the best way to do that was to get out to Onigawa's as quickly as possible.

After shoving a clean uniform into his travel bag, he tucked his hastily written report up his sleeve, and dashed over to the main building to hand it in. Fourth seat Risai, practically hidden behind a huge stack of papers, looked up when he opened the door. 

For the longest moment she seemed frozen in place, then a deep flush raced across her face and she leapt to her feet, dipping into a deep bow. "Ukitake-fukutaichō sir. I didn't recognise you out of uniform. It's good to have you back."

Jūshirō ran a hand down the front of the dark green haori he'd chosen for travel. "Ah, yes, I suppose I do look a little different. And it's good to be back." Glancing over at the captain's closed door, he asked, "Is the captain in yet this morning?"

"No, sir." Another bow, this one a little less flustered. "Though I did see Yamada-fukutaichō entering the compound earlier so maybe he's having a home treatment?"

That wouldn't be altogether unusual. And if it was Yamada attending rather than Unohana-taichō, the captain's health couldn't be so bad.

"Do you want me to give that to him, sir?" 

Risai was holding out her hand. For his report, Jūshirō realised, glancing down at it. He'd intended to hand it to the captain himself when he took his leave, but that would mean waiting. Or going over to the captain's quarters himself and interrupting the treatment session. 

Jūshirō really didn't want to do that. It would be intrusive and impolite, and it wasn't as though Isorashi-taichō hadn't been expecting him to leave again today. If he'd been desperate to see Jūshirō before he left, he would have made sure to send some kind of order.

Mind made up, Jūshirō held the report out to Risai. "Thank you," he said, "And can you tell the captain I'll see him when I get back."

"Going somewhere fun?"

At the sound of a somewhat familiar voice, Jūshirō turned towards the entrance. Yadōmaru Lisa, Shunsui's old ninth seat from the 5th division stood in the doorway carrying a small pile of papers in one hand. She smirked when she saw him looking. "You should put your hair up like that more often, fukutaichō, it looks good on you." 

"Yadōmaru-san," Risai gasped, sounding scandalized, presumably by Yadōmaru's lack of manners.

Her casual attitude didn't surprise Jūshirō; she reminded him of Onigawa that way; though he couldn't help the self-conscious touch to his loose bun. He'd not chosen the style for anything more than convenience on the road, but it was kind of nice to hear that it suited him. "I'm off to see sensei actually," he said, staying on safer conversational territory. "Have you any messages for her that you want me to deliver?"

Yadōmaru raised her eyebrows. "None I can give you in mixed company," she said and, ignoring the slightly strangled noise Risai made, stepped towards the desk. "But give me a moment to hand these off and we can walk out together." 

Jūshirō left her and Risai to it and went outside to wait. The morning was cold but clear, the tops of the roofs and edges of the pathways white with frost. It would be a good day to travel, though he couldn't afford to delay for long. Winter weather up in thirty seven north was notoriously unpredictable.

It wasn't long before Yadōmaru emerged and the pair of them kept a companionable silence as they made their way out of the 13th. Not until they reached the main road did Yadōmaru say, "The kid's playing up again?"

Jūshirō started and looked at her askance. It hadn't occurred to him that she'd immediately connect him going to see Onigawa with Sōsuke. "Not that I know of. Why?"

Yadōmaru shrugged and directed her gaze determinedly ahead. "I just wouldn't be surprised if he was, is all." She paused, jaw set, and Jūshirō let it ride, knowing he'd get more honesty out of her if he didn't try putting words in her mouth. Finally she huffed and glanced his way. "There's something about him. I don't trust the kid, even if he is Kyōraku's."

She thought Sōsuke was Shunsui's child? Well, that had been the plan at the outset, so Jūshirō supposed he shouldn't be surprised when people jumped to that conclusion. In any case, they were almost at the Black Ridge Gate. "I'm sure Onigawa-sensei can look after herself," he said, tugging up the hood on his travelling cloak. "Do you want me to give her your love?"

"Sure," Yadōmaru replied, adding as Jūshirō stepped into shunpo, "If the brat's not offed her in her sleep already."

#

Weirdly, the easiest way to get to North thirty seven was through West forty. Normally it would take about three days to get there, but Jūshirō managed it in two, haunted by Yadōmaru's words as they'd parted.

Did she really believe Sōsuke-kun was a killer? Jūshirō had never inquired too deeply as to why the boy was imprisoned in the Maggot's Nest, assuming that he, like so many, had simply been put there to be forgotten, because surely he couldn't have possessed that monstrous reiatsu as an infant and so that couldn't possibly be the reason for his incarceration.

He was such a bright boy too, the thank you letters he'd sent for the books written with earnest gratitude and appreciation. Surely such a child couldn't be the kind of person Yadōmaru was suggesting, no matter how wilful he might be at times.

By the time Jūshirō reached the edge of the mountain range dividing the districts, he'd pretty much convinced himself that he was panicking over nothing. And later again, looking down at Onigawa's cottage, a small oasis of cultivated green in a sea of frosted white prairie, he was even more decided. It simply wasn't possible for the boy Jūshirō knew to be a cold blooded killer.

His conviction remained steadfast until he saw Sōsuke emerging from behind the cottage, so much taller than Jūshirō remembered, dripping with blood and holding a knife. Then all his surety went out the window. With a strangled gasp he would regret for the rest of his days, he jumped to all the wrong conclusions.

“Oh my! Are you... quite alright? Uh, is Onigawa… around?” 

In a moment, Sōsuke's expression went from pleased to see him to confused to resigned, but by then it was too late. Jūshirō had already called out to Onigawa and was trying to explain why he'd been so worried.

#

There was something terribly wrong at the cottage. Sōsuke, always a quiet child so far as Jūshirō remembered, was now subdued to the point of being cowed. And when Jūshirō tried to ask him about it in the kitchen, it became perfectly obvious that the boy was terrified. Of him, or Onigawa, Jūshirō couldn't fathom and, under the circumstances, a hug could only get them so far. What he needed was expert help. Or, failing that, someone who at least knew more about children than Jūshirō did.

But such a person was not to be easily had out in North thirty seven, so Jūshirō went into dinner with the intention of trying once again to get to the bottom of what was going on. 

Onigawa seemed like the obvious place to start. In the hopes she might shed some light on the situation, Jūshirō took the opportunity of Sōsuke serving the food to ask, “How is Sōsuke progressing with his studies? Do you have a timeline for when you think he might be ready to have the cuffs removed?” They were very obvious now, hardly hidden at all under sleeves grown too short, too quickly. 

Mentally adding new clothing to the list of things he needed to send out this way when he got back to Seireitei, Jūshirō focused back on Onigawa just in time to see her shoot a foul look in Sōsuke's direction. 

The boy flinched. Jūshirō raised his hand and was about to intercede, when Sōsuke blurted, “Ukitake-dono. I told you that I’m quite satisfied here. It’s not my teacher who has failed me, but I who have failed my teacher.”

Which really was no help at all. Onigawa seemed pleased with the answer though. Digging into her rice, she said, “Wow, listen to you, kiddo." She gave Jūshirō a significant look. "I tell you, those monks have been amazing for his attitude.”

And there was that word again, the same one Yadōmaru-san had used. Was he missing something, because as far as Jūshirō could tell, there was nothing at all wrong with Sōsuke's attitude. Or at least nothing a little reassurance wouldn't fix, surely. 

Still, it did seem to form the core of what was going on at the cottage. Lowering his sake bowl, he glanced over at Sōsuke in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but directed his question at Onigawa. “Sōsuke-kun previously had a poor attitude?”

Onigawa snorted a laugh. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

“I’m very…” Sōsuke began, only to stumble to halt a moment later. The pause seemed loaded, and Jūshirō's heart went out to the boy. No child should feel like they had to mark their words so carefully. “...er, _overly_ ambitious.”

“I’d say ‘dangerously,’ but the kid’s being honest, at least,” Onigawa said, leaning in to help herself to a second bowl of sake. Considering how much she'd put away earlier, it was surprising she wasn't slurring her words. 

It was disappointing. Jūshirō had hoped having Sōsuke to train would have redirected some of those less savory inclinations, and maybe rekindled Onigawa's love of teaching. 

But maybe it wasn't too late. “Is ambition bad?” he asked. It certainly hadn't been considered so when he and Shunsui were her students. In fact, she'd been the one to push them the hardest, insisting they could achieve any heights if they just had a bit of ambition.

What had happened to turn that positive, determined woman into this drunken defeatist? Jūshirō wished he knew, while also recognising that he probably never would. Whatever the hurt had been, Onigawa held it very close to her chest, and very firmly pushed everyone else away.

Onigawa made a disbelieving sound. “Ambition isn’t bad. Obsession is!" She glared at Sōsuke and jabbed a thumb at him. "How many times did you break your wrists before Yadōmaru put those extra restraints on?” 

Broken wrists? Extra restraints? This was all news to Jūshirō. And not something Sōsuke wanted to speak about, going by his recalcitrant expression. “A few,” he ground out eventually.

“Eight,” Onigawa said, turning on Jūshirō with a manic light in her eyes. “Eight times, this kid snapped his own wrists pushing the limits of those manacles. Do you know how far you have to go to actually get the manacles to crush bone? Eight damn times he did this!”

Eight…? Jūshirō felt sick to his stomach. “What were you after?” 

At the question, Sōsuke averted his gaze, his voice dropping to a mumble. “Um… Hadō 32, I think? Or perhaps the Bakudō of the same number? I mean they’re essentially the same thing, being two sides of a single process….” 

“32! Were you… defending someone? Did a Hollow attack?” Sending him all the way out here was supposed to have been a good thing, and all it had done was hurt the boy! The dangers, he's never suspected! And Onigawa had probably been drunk...

“No, sir. I just wanted to see if I could do it.”

Jūshirō's riotous self-recriminations tumbled to a stop. "You broke your wrists because….” No, surely he must have misunderstood. He tried again. "Eight times? You broke your own wrists _eight times_ just to see if a thing was possible?”

The boy was shaking, shoulders bent as though expecting blows to rain down on them at any moment. “Yes,” he breathed out, shakily. “Yes, sir, and it was a grave mistake.”

Jūshirō's heart broke for him. “This is what you were afraid I’d find out.” He took a breath, trying his best to keep everything except compassion from his voice. “Oh, Sōsuke-kun. You can’t be hurting yourself like that.”

“I have a lot of… remorse.” Sōsuke hands covered his face as he spoke, hiding… tears? “I understand that I’m troublesome, sir, but please don’t send me back to the Maggot’s Nest.”

That was a fear that needed a quashing immediately. Jūshirō reached out, only remembering at the last moment that the boy didn't react well to hugs and so rested a hand on his knee instead. “No one is talking about that, Sōsuke." But there was something going on here, something he needed to understand better if he was going to help. "I need to understand, though. Why? Why would you hurt yourself like that?”

Going by the look Sōsuke shot at Onigawa, the question seemed to confuse him. 

Onigawa shook her head. “Frankly, that’s what I want to know, too. And tell the truth for once, Sōsuke, not all this bullshit you think we want to hear.”

Hands tightened into fists as Sōsuke shook his head, seeming to have to fight to find the right words. “You want the truth about why I keep pushing the boundaries?” Jūshirō certainly did. Ambition was one thing. Driving oneself past the point of self-harm spoke of deeper issues. Sōsuke sucked in a breath. “Because they’re there.”

That…. Actually, that made sense to Jūshirō. When he was young, even after Mimihagi had saved his life, his family coddled him. Limits had been placed on his behaviour, on his future. Of course he'd never be able to become a sailor like the rest of his family. Nor would he be able to wield a sword. It was all considered far too dangerous for a boy who'd come so close to death.

As he grew, Jūshirō had chafed under those restrictions. He'd hated them. Resented that the adults in his life had thought they'd known what was best for him, even beyond his own ability to know his limits. So he'd stolen away and trained alone. Taught himself to swim and to dive. Used sticks to practice zanjutsu, and unspooled his reiatsu until the edges of it seemed to touch the very sky itself.

It wasn't until he'd accidentally almost sunk the fleet with his power one day that his uncle had insisted he must be taken to Academy and trained as a shinigami.

Those limits had been wrong. And yet the people who'd imposed them had only done so because they loved Jūshirō and wanted what was best for him. Like Onigawa had done to Sōsuke, though the boy obviously didn't see it that way.

He was still speaking, eyes pleading as he gazed over at Jūshirō. “Kidō is like… learning to read kanji. Each spell is like a character. The more I learn, the more the whole story is revealed.” Hands fluttered, describing emotions that Sōsuke seemed unable to articulate. “If you told me I had to walk over a field of broken glass to get the next kanji, I wouldn’t just walk, I would _run_. Because what’s more important? The pain, which is temporary--glass can be removed, feet will heal-- or the word, which is a key to… everything. Every. Thing. I mean, Kidō, it’s the language the world is written in, it’s the… web, the fabric that’s the foundation of… all the worlds.” 

Kidō… was everything? Jūshirō tried hard to wrap his head around the idea. Surely kidō was only a tool, a weapon. Useful, to be sure, but hardly foundational. Perhaps Sōsuke saw more than he did. There was no doubt that the boy was very bright. What was it he'd said? “Earlier… did you imply that Hadō and Bakudō were the same somehow?”

Sōsuke nodded enthusiastically. “Well, yes, sir. They’re like on and off, night and day, light and dark, Hadō and Bakudō.” A shrug, like the concept was nothing new. “The elements are the same, it’s just the… direction you push things? You know how there’s an object, like a tree, and, when the sun is shining, one side is light and the other shadow? All Kidō is like that--Hadō and Bakudō are a singular building blocks of different shaped… objects… around which you bend… things--power, maybe? The direction you… push...? depends on if you want to attack or defend. So, you see, they’re the same, just… different.”

It was amazing to listen to. Like, parts of puzzle that almost made sense.

Onigawa cleared her throat. “Now you see why he’s scary, don’t you, Jūshirō? I’m pretty sure that’s the basis of someone’s thesis work right there. And, he’s what? Thirteen?”

A child. And yet one with so much potential. “I guess I’m glad we brought him here to you,” Jūshirō replied. Because if anyone could make a whole out of what Sōsuke was saying, it was Onigawa. If she could bring herself to listen. 

Her next words suggested it was a vain hope. “You can understand why I’ve been trying to retard Sōsuke’s progress. He needs to understand when to _stop_ , not run full tilt into that ‘field of broken glass.’”

Which was true, except stopping him entirely would only have the opposite effect, with potentially devastating results. 

“Yes, of course,” Jūshirō agreed, thinking quickly how else they could approach the problem. He smiled over at Sōsuke. “It’s better, too, I’d imagine, to fully understand where you are before you push forward so far, so fast.”

But Sōsuke wasn't paying attention. Instead he was poking at his food. After a moment of silence he started to rise, saying, “Shall I fetch the salt grinder? Maybe the pepper as well.”

Onigawa held out a hand to stop him and Sōsuke sank back into his seat. “Sensei?”

“You’re not going to argue?”

Wary brown eyes flicked from Onigawa to Jūshirō and back again. “Argue which point?”

“Aw, c’mon, kid,” Onigawa said. “You _hate_ it when I remind you that I stopped teaching you. You hate the reason even more.”

Sōsuke's shoulders tightened, his head dipping once more. “I’m sorry, Sensei. I don’t understand what you want from me right now.”

Of course he didn't. How could he. Despite his increasingly lanky frame, he was still a child, with a child's understanding of the world. And this conversation was getting them nowhere.

Grasping for a way out, Jūshirō returned to a previous suggestion. “This could use a bit of salt." Sōsuke's head dropped even further. "I mean… it’s very good otherwise, really! This rice is amazing! It’s my fault that I distracted you while you were cooking the chicken.” And then he was scrambling away to the kitchen.

Jūshirō watched him go, worry curdling what little food had made it to his stomach. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on him," he suggested once the boy was out of earshot. 

Onigawa harrumphed as she refilled her bowl. "If you don't like my methods, you're welcome to take him away." 

Which would suit none of them, Jūshirō suspected. For all her faults, and they were many, Onigawa was the right person to teach Sōsuke what he needed to know. And on some levels it was working. Even with the manacles on, Jūshirō could feel that Sōsuke's reiatsu was much calmer and more controlled than it had been before. 

Yet things could not be allowed to continue as they were long term; Onigawa's drinking was obviously still excessive, and her neglect of Sōsuke's emotional and social well-being was intolerable. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to wait and speak to Shunsui. Between the two of them, they might be able drag this whole situation back onto a more even keel. 

"So, you going to?" Onigawa said, her eyes a slip of darkness beneath her lids as she looked up at him. 

She was worried, Jūshirō realised, though whether that was about losing Sōsuke himself or the income he brought with him was unclear. He shook his head. "Not right now. But there does need to be some changes, sensei. I think even you have to agree with that."

With grumbled denials, Onigawa subsided back into her seat. Jūshirō took it as a win and changed the subject. "I was hoping to get an early start tomorrow. Do you think you can get a barrier in place by morning?"

Onigawa huffed and reached under a side-table. Her fingers lingered on a sake jug before settling on her pipe instead. "Depends how good you want it to be." She glanced up as she filled the ornate bowl. "That godlet of yours still in residence?"

As if Mimihagi could ever be anywhere else while Jūshirō was up and walking around. Still, he owed Onigawa a debt for the help she'd given him both controlling Mimihagi's influence and keeping its presence a secret. He hummed an affirmative. "It is, which is why I came to you for the barrier, sensei. There's a chance some of its reiatsu might leak out while I'm training." A very good chance, since he was relying on Mimihagi's reiatsu to fake the bankai.

"Then it'll take a couple of days at least," Onigawa concluded, leaning back and taking a deep draw on her pipe to get it lit. She shook out the tiny kidō on the tip of her finger before continuing, "After that, it should be self-sustaining when you're not inside, so you'll be able to go in and out at will."

Thank goodness for that! Jūshirō had been prepared to stay inside for as long as it took to produce something functional, but it wasn't something he'd choose to do if he didn't have to. There were definite benefits to hot meals and a bed. He shot Onigawa a grateful smile. "Thank you, sensei. I'll do my best to keep young Sōsuke out of your hair while you work."

That earned him a jaundiced glare, just visible through a haze of blue smoke. "Don't bother. Chores'll keep him busy most of the day. Kid's a pain in the ass if he's not got something to get his teeth into." She blew a spiral of smoke up towards the ceiling. "What's all the damned hurry anyway. Coming out here this time of year's just asking to get snowed in."

"Um..." Jūshirō hesitated. He couldn't exactly give her the whole truth, but perhaps enough of it to explain his sudden request. "My captain is ill and, well, I kind of promised Genryusai-sensei that I'd be ready to take over in a year."

"And how close are you really?"

After all these years, she could still read him so well. Jūshirō ducked his head and scrubbed at his neck in embarrassment. "Close enough, I think." Not that what he said mattered, she'd know the truth soon enough.

"Liar," Onigawa snorted and leaned forward to give her pipe a tap against the hearth. "And people think you're the nice one."

#

Jūshirō hummed happily as he perched in a tree top watching Onigawa work. There was an elegant efficiency to her kidō that he'd never encountered in anyone else, and it was matched by the tight thread of her reiatsu as she spooled it out across the ground, measuring the boundaries of exactly how far the barrier would spread.

She seemed to be laying out a Doubled Rainbow Dome, which made sense given that particular barrier's resilience to internal pressure. Despite its name, it wasn't actually a dome at all but a sphere whose lower half stretched below ground, meaning whichever direction Mimihagi's reiatsu extended, it would never be able to break through.

That was reassuring. Although he had some theories on how to parcel out Mimihagi's power, Jūshirō had no real idea how that would translate into the real world. 

Not that there was much to damage out here, except for Onigawa's holding of course. And those buildings were several miles away, their weathered grey boards working as camouflage against the pale gold of the autumnal grasslands. The other nearest settlements were further still, up into the mountains. Honestly, he could probably release the first stage without the barrier…

A quicksilver flash of delight echoed inside him; Sōgyo no Kotowari, full of excitement at the promise of finally being able to come out to play. And behind that splash of joy, the rumbling throb of Mimihagi like a storm brewing in the distance.

_The small one is right. It will be good to take form once more._

Jūshirō flicked a quick glance at the far horizon. The sky was still a deep blue and utterly cloudless.

"Do you want to try?"

Twin cries of enthusiasm met his inquiry and so, with a grin, Jūshirō slid down the tree and drew his zanpakutō. His release phrase peeled the blades apart and then it was simply a matter of allowing the spirits to manifest. Or so the theory went anyway. In practice it proved a little more complex than that and gave Jūshirō a distinct headache by the time two humanoid figures shimmered into existence in front of him and scampered off into the trees. 

"Not so fast!" Jūshirō yelped, grabbing for them before they could get too far. He caught them easily enough by the upper arms, but they spun in eerie co-ordination, and kicked him hard in the shins. 

They packed enough reiatsu between the two of them that it really hurt. "Ow!" Jūshirō released his grip on scaled skin and the pair were gone again, this time fleeing down the slope towards where Onigawa was trying to work, their giggles a silvery echo on the air.

"Damn it," Jūshirō muttered and set off after them, head and shins still throbbing. 

As he stepped out of shunpo, Onigawa flashed him the filthiest of looks. "Yours, I presume," she growled, pointing. The neat thread of reiatsu that she'd had been spinning was now a tangled mess, and in the middle of it all Sōgyo no Kotowari were firmly bakudō'd to the ground 

Jūshirō bowed his deepest apologies. "Sorry, sensei, they got away from me after they manifest."

"Got away?! For crap's sake, boy, how do you think you're going to make bankai if you can't even get them to stay with you?!" She turned, waving her hands wildly. "Look at this! A whole morning's work, ruined!" 

The yelling was familiar. Jūshirō kept his head down, prepared to let Onigawa's temper run its course… right up until she tried to backhand him. 

Too much of a soldier to let the blow land, Jūshirō dodged, catching Onigawa's wrist before she could try again, and rose to his full height. She yanked back on her arm, snarling up into his face with what sounded like frustration, her reiatsu beginning to crackle and seethe around her. 

"Enough!" Jūshirō snapped, smothering her agitated reiatsu with a single blast of his own. "Sensei, stop this!"

Nearby, Sōgyo no Kotowari vanished with a startled squeak, and it was enough to give Jūshirō pause because, looking down at his old teacher, he could something was very wrong. Onigawa's eyes were shadowed like she'd not slept all night, her brows were pinched together with pain, and her hand where he gripped it was shaking. And this time not with rage.

Jūshirō's mind flashed back to the night before, to the sake jug beneath the side-table and the way Onigawa's fingers had lingered on it. Was she really that dependent? Had her problem truly deteriorated that far?

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Jūshirō let go of her arm and reached out, brushing steel grey hair from her pasty, sweaty face. "You've been out here alone too long, sensei," he said. 

She shook his hand off with a snort. "That's why you gave me the kid, ain't it? To keep me sober? Well, it didn't bloody work. Kid's enough to drive anyone to drink."

That wasn't true. It was the loneliness and the memories that were causing that. Jūshirō wasn't familiar with all the details, but he knew Onigawa's retirement hadn't been entirely voluntary and that rumours had dogged her tenure as Kidō Corps Commander for several decades before she'd finally left.

"Why don't you come back to Seireitei," he suggested as gently as he could. 

"Why don't you just piss off and let me work," she shot back, and stomped off towards the ruined barrier base. "Go on, get out of here, or I'll never get this damned thing done!"

Jūshirō sighed and watched her go. It was pointless arguing with her, and equally pointless staying. He turned and headed in the opposite direction, back across the prairie towards the small grey house and some much needed peace and quiet.

He found it on the back step, feeding the chickens rice, until Sōsuke-kun came and scolded him for using up winter rations. It was worth it though for the excellent meal he brought with him and the conversation that accompanied it. The boy was so bright, so brimful of questions and ideas that Jūshirō could hardly keep up.

At one time Onigawa would have seen that as a challenge, not to her authority as she seemed to now, but of her creativity. She would have found the time, made the effort to ensure Sōsuke got what he needed. Now, it seemed, her priorities were elsewhere. 

In the long term, that was going to be a problem. For now, Jūshirō would simply have to do what he could to help.

Reaching out, he patted Sōsuke on the knee. "Perhaps you'd like to sit jinzen with me?"

#

Jūshirō couldn't believe how quickly that had spiralled out of control. One moment Sōsuke and Onigawa had been involved been a fairly typical for them argument, and the next she'd used a kidō whip - a kidō whip! - on the boy. Now, Onigawa looked on the verge of a breakdown and blood seeped through the front Sōsuke's yukata. It was all Jūshirō could do not to round on his old teacher and give her a taste of her own medicine, but that wouldn't help anyone, least of all the child now trying to struggle to his feet.

Jūshirō held him back, gathering reiatsu. "Just press on the wound. Don't try to get up," he said, healing the broken skin as well as his rudimentary skills allowed. 

From behind him came the soft sound of swearing and then footsteps as Onigawa fled.

"Sensei!" Jūshirō called after her, his attention splitting between what she might do and the injured boy still shivering under his hands. "What on earth is happening here? When did it get this bad?" It certainly couldn't be allowed to continue that much was obvious.

Suddenly, a loud blast shook the house. The front yard! Onigawa! Jūshirō's feet were moving before he even registered the sound, and when it happened again, he had absolutely no choice. 

With a backward glance at Sōsuke, who seemed just about well enough to leave on his own, Jūshirō headed for the door, his thoughts in turmoil. Was Onigawa hurting herself, or the landscape. Even if it was only the latter, she could still damage the buildings, and Jūshirō was fairly sure they and all of their contents were essential going into the winter.

As it turned out, it was only the yard and the stretch of land beyond it, which, alongside two sizable holes, was now pocked with smaller craters as Onigawa systematically yanked clods of earth out of the stoney ground and tossed them high into the air. With kidō. 

"Sensei-" Jūshirō began, holding out his hands in a way he hoped might placate her. 

Onigawa rounded on him. "He made me do it!" she exploded. "You saw what he did! Evil fucking elf. I swear, one of these days-!"

"He's not evil!" Jūshirō yelled over her. "He's just a child!" A little odd at times, maybe, but then who wouldn't be after spending their formative years in prison. "And you used to be Commander of the Kidō Corps! You can't go around assaulting people, sensei. You'll end up locked away yourself!"

But Onigawa was having none of it. The moment the Maggot's Nest came up, she simply latched on to that part of Sōsuke's past. "And why was _he_ in there, eh? Answer me that! I'll tell you why. Because he's a killer. It's in him, down to his bones. I know it is, Jūshirō-kun, because I've met ones like him before!" Her mouth snapped shut around the end of the sentence as if she'd said too much, and she spun away from him, shoulders rising. 

That, and her using his given name, made Jūshirō take a deep breath, reel in his own temper, and ask, "What do you mean, you've seen people like him before?"

Onigawa's head shook. "Nothing. Go back inside and check on the kid."

Jūshirō sent a tendril of reiatsu in Sōsuke's direction and found him already up and moving. The boy really was resilient, but then he'd have had no choice in prison, would he. Nor would he have been able to escape abusive guards or punishment. 

Suddenly Sōsuke's passivity in the face of Onigawa's continual ragging made a lot more sense. 

Jūshirō sighed and rubbed his forehead. His headache was coming back. "He's fine. Right now, I'm more worried about you. This can't go on, sensei. Obviously I can't leave Sōsuke with you when I go, but I don't want to leave you alone either." He reached out for her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Come back with us. There's people in Seireitei that can help-"

"Help! Seireitei!" Onigawa rounded on him, eyes flashing, and shoved a finger in his face. "What do you know about the real Seireitei, eh? Nothing, that's what! The whole place is cesspit of lies! Crawling with the worst of the worst. The Court of Pure Souls?! Pah! Don't make me puke!"

It was overblown and overstated, but Jūshirō couldn't argue with the essence of it, not after events of the past few years. "Not everyone," he tried. "I'm there. And Shunsui." He paused, unwilling to mention anyone else since he had no idea who'd hurt her. A sudden thought occurred to him. "What about Yadōmaru-san. She's not a bad person."

Onigawa's chin twitched, though her gaze remained firmly on the mountains. For a long moment she said nothing, and she sighed quietly and her whole body unwound. "I guess, though her boyfriend won't be keen if I turn up again full time."

That wasn't an absolute no. Jūshirō was prepared to take it as a win. "Good. We'll work out the details later. For now, how about you give me a hand tidying up the yard."

#

There was half an inch of snow on the ground when Jūshirō entered the dome the following morning. Once Onigawa had sealed him in, he trudged towards the centre of the vast space, doing his best to refocus on training rather than matters on the outside. Sōsuke had still been fast asleep when they left, and Onigawa definitely seemed calmer, which had to be a good thing. With luck, they wouldn't even encounter each other until Jūshirō was back out there with them.

No, he needed to stop worrying. Everything was going to be fine. And anyway, what else could he do? Onigawa had to be out there to maintain the barrier and Jūshirō could hardly bring Sōsuke inside with him. Those manacles rendered him defenceless against any reiatsu.  
One slip with Mimihagi's and the boy might be vapourized. 

Though that did give Jūshirō an idea of a possible way to deal with the Onigawa problem. 

But he couldn't think about that now.

Spreading his travelling cloak across the ground, Jūshirō sank down onto it with his sword across his knees. In his experience, it was always best to start any training session with a brief meditation, but if things went right this morning then what happened here was going to be far more than that. Because, what Jūshirō was trying to do was complex and, by his reckoning, best done from the inside out.

As he dropped into his inner world, Mimihagi welcomed him courteously, Sōgyo no Kotowari with ill-concealed excitement, sunlight flashing off their scales as they danced through the ocean. It was endless, so far as Jūshirō could ascertain. There was certainly no sign of land on any horizon, nor any suggestion that such existed beyond them; no birds or ships or seawrack; nothing but an infinite ocean. 

Jūshirō relaxed and let himself float on the surface of the water, enjoying the blue skies above and the warmth of the sun on his face, focusing on the lift and fall of the waves. It was peaceful, almost a meditation within a meditation, the natural rhythm of the water filling and surrounding him, his body resonating with it; an echo of waves in his heartbeat, the rush of air in his lungs. This was Sōgyo no Kotowari. This was his element. The sea, vast and depthless. 

And unpredictable.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than the taste of ozone bloomed on his tongue and Jūshirō found himself no longer floating but treading water. Beneath him the swell of the ocean deepened as the wind began to pick up. The sky darkened as clouds built, rapid and swirling. Waves whipped by the sudden wind lashed past him, stinging cold against his skin, unforgiving, lethal in their intent, troughs and crests turned wrenching in their power. 

Jūshirō rode it out, because this too was his. The storm, the crash of thunder, the piercing thrust of lightning. It struck the water around him, bright even behind eyelids closed against the flash, and he felt it then, the stab of power into his heart, making his own reiatsu swell. Mimihagi, riding the tail of Sōgyo no Kotowari's natural affinity, adding its power to his own, until it burst over, out, and up. 

He slammed back into reality to find himself back in the dome and at the centre of a whirlwind. Reiatsu screamed in his ears, lashed against his skin, tearing at clothing and hair. Jūshirō raised his arm, trying to shield his face, but there was no chance of seeing anything when even breathing was nigh on impossible. But he could use other means, and despite everything he could feel an edge to this maelstrom. Onigawa's barrier, creaking under the strain and threatening to shatter from the pressure of Mimihagi's power. Jūshirō staggered, what scrap of control he retained almost wrenched from his grasp.

He fought for it, dragging on his reiatsu, instinctively focusing down on the method they'd devised to measure out Mimihagi's power. Ten marks, nine, eight; he hauled it back in, feeling the flow of power through his body drop in time with his efforts, until finally, at last, he could stand in the eye of the hurricane. 

Power still swirled around him, through him, from him; vast, alien and infinitely more uncontrollable than he'd feared. His heart quailed. Was this even going to be possible? Right now, it didn't feel so, all his plans and intentions like dust motes against this universe of reiatsu.

Sōgyo no Kotowari's brief nervous touch only reinforced the fear. Even they seemed overwhelmed by what they'd just unleashed.

_And yet your idea worked._

Jūshirō's eyes slid closed as Mimihagi spoke. A sounding line, designed to measure the precise depth of an ocean floor to prevent a ship running aground, was the model chosen because Jūshirō knew it to his bones. And yes, that had worked. Even when all else seemed lost.

He tugged on it again, and the reiatsu wind dropped still further. Again, and now it was no more than a stiff breeze, perfect for carrying a sailboat far and fast across the sea. A notch out, and the sails billowed, snapped and strained; in again and they faltered, ropes slackening briefly between gusts.

This too Jūshirō knew, through blood and sweat and years of salt-laden days. Hands, now calloused from sword play, had once borne similar from rope and chain, so maybe this too he could use. Because a ship, well handled, could ride the eye of a storm. And if the storm itself was in the helmsman's hands, how much easier then would it be to control.

Except, that had been no storm. 

With a shaky breath, Jūshirō pulled his reiatsu back in entirely, and felt Mimihagi's power subside into dormancy once more. His hands trembled as he slid Sōgyo no Kotowari back into its sheath, and were freezing against his cheeks when he brushed hair back from his face. 

His simple plan, to build the storm on the inside and then invert it to manifest on the outside, had failed. There'd been no water to become his shield, no lightning to be his sword, only raw untamed power. 

And yet… perhaps, not untameable.

His stomach rumbled, sharp and insistent. There was no way of knowing how much time had passed since he entered the dome; Jūshirō knew from experience that this kind of training could be deceptive; but however long it had been, he could do no more today. He was exhausted. To even try would be to risk losing control entirely.

With a sigh, he straightened up and trudged back over to barrier's edge. It took a while, though his way was eased by the ground having been scoured clear of both grass and snow, the remaining bare earth now compacted iron-hard by the force of Mimihagi's reiatsu. When he reached the barrier, a simple touch opened a door for him in the dome's wall. Jūshirō stumbled out gratefully, hoping that Onigawa and Sōsuke-kun had managed to keep the peace between them in his absence. 

If they hadn't, there was no evidence of it in Onigawa, who was rising to her feet, brushing snow from her hair and clothing. She wasn't shivering, but her lips and fingertips were tinted blue-white from the cold.

"Home?" she asked shortly when Jūshirō paused beside her.  
"Unless you have anything else you need to do," Jūshirō answered, rather desperately hoping that there wouldn't be. He glanced back at the dome, a shimmering dragonfly wing against the deep black of the sky. "I can stay and monitor the barrier if-"

Onigawa cut him off with a snort and a wave of her hand. "No, it'll be fine so long as there's no idiot trying to break it down from the inside." She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell were you doing in there, boy? It felt like the Soul King himself had come down to pay a visit."

Jūshirō pulled a face. He'd never explicitly told Onigawa what co-existed inside his soul, and had no desire to either. The fewer who knew, the less likely it was that the information could end up in the wrong hands. Even his parents had no idea what they'd allowed to enter him, their only concern at the time being that it kept him alive.

Apparently the question had been rhetorical, since Onigawa had already set off back towards the cottage. Jūshirō took a couple of hurried steps to catch up and settled in to walk beside her, squinting into the darkness. As they left the glare of the dome behind, a dim yellowish light became visible in the distance. The cottage. Though honestly, it was still better identified by the wavering pulse of Sōsuke's reiatsu than any light at this time of night. 

Which reminded him. After last night, it was abundantly clear that leaving Sōsuke alone out here with Onigawa was no longer a viable option. In the long term anyway. 

Short term, things were stable. With Onigawa tied up maintaining the barrier all day, and Jūshirō there to run interference when she wasn't, Sōsuke should be fine. But as soon as he had bankai, he needed to contact Shunsui so they could work out some alternative arrangement for the future, either another apprenticeship or preferably, given the boy's power, a place at Academy. 

If his control was good enough, of course.

Sitting jinzen with Sōsuke yesterday had been interesting in that regard. He certainly seemed capable of exerting at least some control over his reiatsu, enough that Jūshirō suspected the manacles may no longer be necessary. Though Jūshirō had to concede that Shunsui might not see it that way. He'd obviously been keeping closer tabs on the situation than Jūshirō, since those reinforcing ribbons must have come from him, which suggested he was far less trusting of Sōsuke's abilities and honestly, Jūshirō had nothing in the way of reassurance to offer except a gut feeling that Sōsuke could do it.

What he needed was an opportunity for Sōsuke to prove him right. 

That, of course was easier said than done, though not impossible. Shooting a quick look at Onigawa, Jūshirō pondered whether or not to bring up the idea of removing both or at least one of Sōsuke's manacles temporarily, as an experiment, and decided against it. Her reaction to anything Sōsuke was so unbalanced that Jūshirō found it impossible to predict exactly what she might say or do. Better to keep her away from the whole thing then, and for Jūshirō to pick his moment appropriately.

Suppressing a bone-deep shiver, Jūshirō put aside deeper thoughts for later and set his sights on the distant cottage again. If he was lucky, Sōsuke-kun would have a roaring fire ready to welcome them, along with something substantial for dinner, and Jūshirō knew he could certainly put both to good use.

#

An hour or so later, warm and full of a remarkably tasty pork stew - the boy really was an excellent cook - Jūshirō felt energized enough to follow Onigawa's instruction and try sitting jinzen again. He didn't even have to fight all that hard not to fall asleep when he closed his eyes and, after a moment's meditation, dropped into his inner world.

The arching sky was still dark, but in contrast to the earlier storm, it was now clear, a star strewn night that seemed more suited to midsummer than the edge of winter they were brushing up against outside. The ocean stretched out around him, calm and still, almost like a mirror. 

It was also empty. The only presence Jūshirō could feel was Mimihagi, which didn't really count since Mimihagi was pervasive, in every sense, and had been for as long as Jūshirō could remember. 

"Sōgyo no Kotowari!" he called out, feeling faintly stupid. His voice echoed across the water, carrying far further than it ever would on land. Still, there was no reply.

Jūshirō did his best not to feel worried. After all, it had been a hard day for them all. It made sense that Sōgyo no Kotowari was tired as well. Though it did put a crimp in his plan to work on ideas for tomorrow's training session. Hopefully Sōgyo no Kotowari would be up to it by morning. 

He was about to leave when another thought occurred, this time with regards to Onigawa, Sōsuke-kun and the manacles. The boy seemed recovered physically from the assault and, going by his reaction to Onigawa's demand for a bath, emotionally stable enough that Jūshirō felt confident he'd react well to the suggestion of removing them. The question then became, was Jūshirō himself up to it on the off chance that Sōsuke lost control when the manacles came off.

There was no doubt that Sōsuke possessed a vast reserve of reiatsu, far larger than a child of his maturity normally could, but it paled in comparison to Mimihagi's. Or at least it would on a normal day. Today, as Jūshirō's aching muscles could testify, had been anything but normal, and he was loath to attempt removing the manacles without the surety of enough reiatsu to contain Sōsuke if necessary. 

_I will be here, should there be a need._

The knowledge landed in his brain like it always did from Mimihagi, without benefit of a voice or the time to process it; one moment unknown, the next, established fact.

"Thank you," Jūshirō replied, and then paused. Sōgyo no Kotowari might be too tired to speak about tomorrow, but it didn't sound like Mimihagi was. A bit tentatively, he said, "Do you have any insights as to how we can progress?"

_Progression is linear. Perhaps it is better to consider how we might become._

Well, that was about as helpful as a kettle made of wax. Jūshirō shook his head. "I think that's beyond me for tonight," he said. "I'll worry about it in the morning when my brain isn't half turned to mush."

Opening his eyes back in the real world, he discovered Sōsuke just coming in from outside and Onigawa gone, presumably to bathe. Perhaps this was the opportunity he'd been looking for, a chance to discover something to lend credence to that gut-feeling. 

Jūshirō's hopes that Sōsuke might choose to join him by the fire were dashed as the boy hesitated in the doorway, blinking somewhat blearily around the room. To be fair, he'd been working almost nonstop since they'd got back and, going by the food and fire, couldn't have rested much during the day either. 

Did it say something bad about him as a person, Jūshirō wondered, that he suspected most of Onigawa's reluctance to see Sōsuke unshackled and moving on came from losing the boy's free labour. Of course any master expected their apprentice to work hard, it went with the territory, but more than a portion of that work should be training. It was entirely possible that Onigawa had taken advantage of her ruse of Sōsuke being a simple slave. 

Picking up his tea, Jūshirō made another attempt to connect. "You work awfully hard."

For once, Sōsuke didn't shrug him off. "It's actually a relief she wants to bathe," he replied, rubbing at his eyes like they were sore. "I'm not sure she bathed at all last winter." 

There really was no good answer to that. Jūshirō hummed noncommittally and patted the mat beside him. His tea was stone cold but once he got the boy settled, he could make a fresh pot.

Sōsuke obeyed, though not without a longing look at the corner of the room where he slept. Was Jūshirō's company really so bad, or was the boy simply tired? Or perhaps he wanted to read a bit more of one of his novels? Now that was a sentiment that Jūshirō could understand. Except, there was hardly enough light to read by over here by the fire, let alone in that dark corner. Without a lantern, there was really only one way it could be done. 

"How do you even see to read in that dark corner of yours?" he asked, keeping his voice even so as not to alarm the boy. Going by Sōsuke's reaction, it didn't work. He startled a little and stared at Jūshirō in obvious confusion. Which, honestly was all the answer Jūshirō needed. Trying not to burst with excitement, he exclaimed, "You've been using your reiatsu to read, haven't you!" The implications if he had...

The boy's mouth opened, and a flash of fear skated across his face. Jūshirō leapt in before it could become more. "Good gods, that’s such fine-tuned control! And you were doing it the other night! I thought it was a bit odd at the time that you didn’t even ask for a lantern, but well, everything has been such a mess and I just assumed that you wouldn’t ask after all that…. Ah, anyway, that’s not important right now. What’s amazing is that I never felt a glimmer of the massive amount of spiritual pressure you must have been using." He smiled, hoping to convey some small measure of the happiness he was feeling, and took the plunge. "Sōsuke, do you even need those cuffs anymore?" 

Worry turned to true fear on Sōsuke's face. Jūshirō scrambled, quickly locating the key in Onigawa's discarded clothing and pursued the boy across the room, determined to execute his plan before either Onigawa could return or Sōsuke could turn tail and flee. Even if the boy couldn't see it, this was a vital opportunity to reclaim his future. And, as Shunsui often said, it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

Only the boy's terrified, "What if I atomize the place?" worked to give Jūshirō pause. 

Could he be that strong? It was possible, but putting that kind of doubt in Sōsuke's mind wouldn't help when it came to control. For that you needed confidence in your own abilities.

And confident was about as far from Sōsuke's current state of mind as it was possible to get, going by the expression on the boy's face. He was practically backed up against the wall, hands across his chest, clasped around the manacles as though to protect them. 

But backing off at this point wasn't going to help. If he could control his reiatsu well enough to use it for reading, even with the manacles on, then he'd certainly be able to control it with them off.

Letting out an encouraging laugh, Jūshirō did his best to jolly Sōsuke past his doubts. "There's no way you're that strong," he said. And if there was an explosion, then Jūshirō would just have to make sure he was quick enough to keep the reiatsu contained. 

Sōsuke looked slightly less terrified, but no less daunted, so Jūshirō tried another tack. "Perhaps let's just removed one then." The boy still didn't look convinced. “Look, what if we crack it open no more than a hair? We can snap it right back on if there’s any trouble at all!” Still not enough. But what would work to convince him if all those reassurances didn't? Ah, of course. "Aren’t you the least bit curious how far you’ve come?"

That finally seemed to do the trick. A skinny hand shot out. Jūshirō took it, felt the slight tremble in the muscles and gave Sōsuke a warm smile, projecting as much confidence as he could. "I have a good feeling about this," he said. "I really do. And honestly? I could use a win today. So, please do your best!"

He reached out. The moment key made contact with metal, the manacle cracked and dropped to the floor, kidō shorting out between the three separate pieces. Broken, unmendable.

Jūshirō froze, his mind howling a wordless denial, because this was not what was supposed to happen! This was supposed to be an experiment. Temporary. A chance for Jūshirō to reassure himself, and Sōsuke, that his power was nothing to be afraid of. 

But that was gone now. Gone and irretrievable. Like the manacle itself. Onigawa was going to be furious. 

Beside him, Sōsuke let out a shuddering breath, and it was only then that Jūshirō realised that, for all his panic, the experiment had actually worked. Despite the shock of the manacle breaking, not a whisper of reiatsu had escaped Sōsuke's control. 

He grinned and managed at the last second to turn an exultant hug into a congratulatory shoulder clap. "Sōsuke-kun! You're doing it!"

The smile he got in return made all the worry worth while. Sousuke's entire demeanour changed; his shoulders went back, he stood up straighter, his eyes shone. For the first time since Jūshirō had met him, he looked truly happy.

Of course that was when Onigawa came back in. Jūshirō turned to her, hoping to explain before she had the chance to overreact, only for her to leap to all the wrong conclusions. Twice. 

The fall out wasn't pleasant, but considering the episode with the kidō whip, it could have been so much worse. A barrier to keep Sōsuke contained which Jūshirō could kind of understand, even though it annoyed him that his old teacher couldn't see past the boy's power to his incredible potential. To his credit, Sōsuke made no attempt to fight back, even though he could have now one of the manacles was off. Even so, even that small amount of exertion proved too much for Onigawa after a day of keeping the barrier maintained.

Jūshirō only just managed to catch her before she fell, and had to help her over to the fire, and all the while she was muttering about ambition and manipulation, about how untrustworthy Sōsuke was, how dangerous. "You don't know people like him," she kept saying. "You think you know them and then they turn, show you their real colours, but it's too late by then." 

Whatever had happened to make her resign her commission and flee Seireitei had obviously traumatised her far worse than they'd realised, but Jūshirō didn't understand why she kept projecting it onto Sōsuke. "Sensei, you've got to stop this," he said eventually, rubbing her chilled hands between his own. "Whatever that person did, Sōsuke's not the same as them." 

"No," Onigawa snarled under her breath. "He's worse. He's a monster."

"Enough," Jūshirō snapped, glancing back over his shoulder. Thankfully Sōsuke had already made his escape. "I won't have you speaking about him like that, sensei. It's not fair, the boy hasn't done anything-"

"Not yet, maybe, but he will!" She pulled away from him, swaying back to her feet, clutching her yukata close. "And when he does, it'll all come crashing down again. Bodies everywhere, and nothing anyone can do except end it. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, someone has to pay the price." Her final words came out so quiet Jūshirō hardly heard them.

"You were the one who paid it before." It wasn't a question, since the answer was obvious. 

Onigawa looked at him, and Jūshirō could see the pain buried there, deep and entrenched behind the kind of self-hatred he'd only seen once before in his life; in Shunsui's eyes when Jūshirō told him about Ise-san. She laughed, a short bark that was more pain that amusement. "Well, I sure as shit don't drink because I enjoy it," she said, and tugged the collar of her yukata open, exposing her chest. 

Instinctively, Jūshirō averted his gaze; Onigawa was his teacher. Seeing this part of her naked was beyond inappropriate. 

"Ah, quit being such a prude," she snapped, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back around. "It's nothing you haven't seen before except saggier."

"Sensei-!" Jūshirō began, only to cut himself off because there, below her breast and just above her heart, was a seal. One he recognized from his numerous visits to the 4th. "Binding Chain Preservation...? Sensei, you should be dead!"

Onigawa snorted and jerked her yukata closed again. "Some days I wish I was. But the Judges preferred to keep me alive, so here I am." 

That sounded like it had been applied as a punishment, not as the last ditch life-saving strategy it was usually used for. "Why? I don't understand."

Grey curls tumbled around her face as Onigawa shook her head. "My last monster," she said, waving away Jūshirō when he opened his mouth to protest the term. "No, you'll not stop me this time. It's my life so I'll use my own words.

"And anyway, he was a monster. As pretty a one as you've ever seen, with his blue eyes and sweet smile. A real charmer when he wanted, but on the inside," -she shuddered- "that kid was pure evil."

"Sensei!" Jūshirō couldn't help protesting.

"Well, he was," she retorted, eyes flashing. "It's just that no one knew it until it was too late. By then there was well over two dozen dead, twice that number ruined for life, and no one left standing between him and the rest of those snivelling weasels except me. So I ripped out my own Binding Chain, and used it to obliterate him. Saved their lives, and their families lives too, but all those damn Judges cared about was that I'd used a forbidden kidō."

Gisei hadō, a spell that utilized a part of the caster to furnish its massive power output. That must have been why she'd left. Or probably more accurately, why she'd been exiled. Jūshirō hadn't heard anything about the incident she was describing, but then to his certain knowledge, Onigawa had been out here for at least a century and Central 46 were notorious for burying anything even the slightest bit dodgy. 

"I'm sorry, sensei." To witness one of your own go rogue like that must have been horrible. To have to finish them off yourself, and then get punished for doing it, even worse. But even so- "Sōsuke isn't them, though. Yes, he's ambitious, and very very powerful, but he's not evil. One day he will be a huge asset to the Gotei, I'm sure of it."

Onigawa snorted and turned away towards her sleeping space. "That's what they used to say about Tōma." She stooped and picked up a padded yukata off the top of the tansu. "I suppose only time will tell who's right and who's wrong. I just hope both of us are still here to find out."

#

Later, lying on his sleeping mat and monitoring young Sōsuke's ventures into gross reiatsu manipulation outside the cottage, Jūshirō found himself impressed yet again by the boy's determination. He really did have excellent control, rarely made the same error twice, and beneath that deadly serious veneer, possessed a bright and inquiring mind.

It was such a pity. He should be a pleasure to teach, and yet all Onigawa could see was the monster from her own nightmares.

In Jūshirō's opinion, every child, no matter how gifted, should have the chance of a proper childhood, and Sōsuke-kun was no exception. Sending him out here had been a mistake. Instead of the positive experience he and Shunsui had hoped it would be, it had simply traumatised both Onigawa and Sōsuke all over again. But there was no changing that now. The best Jūshirō could do was send word to Shunsui, explaining the situation and asking his opinion on how best to move forward. Weather and time permitting, he'd try and arrange that in the morning.

From the other sleeping mat, the grinding buzz of Onigawa's snoring kicked up a notch. Jūshirō sighed and turned over. There was nothing more to be done about Sōsuke tonight, so he'd be better off putting the boy out of his mind and concentrating on his own problems.

_'Progression is linear,'_ Mimihagi had said. _'Perhaps it is better to consider how we might become.'_ Even with a few hours extra thought, Jūshirō was still flummoxed by this. What could Mimihagi possibly mean? And why was it so antipathetic towards the idea of progress? 

It made no sense. One strove for enough power to merit an asauchi, battled against the odds to discover one's zanpakutō's name, laboured to perfect one's shikai and then fought to win bankai. Surely progress was the very definition of a shinigami's life. And yet here was Mimihagi saying that Jūshirō had got it all wrong. That _'becoming'_ was more important.

Either Jūshirō had misinterpreted what Mimihagi had said, or his understanding of the relationship between shinigami and zanpakutō was entirely wrong. For someone on a clock for gaining bankai, fake or otherwise, neither option was very comforting. Would failing to answer Mimihagi's question lead to failure overall? Could he even answer it?

Jūshirō didn't think his and Sōgyo no Kotowari's relationship was based on a fundamental misunderstanding, but then again, Mimihagi also dwelled in his soul. Perhaps other shinigami were different? Perhaps Shunsui, out there right now confronting Katen Kyōkotsu for bankai, was being given the same kind of choice. 'Become' or fail.

And what did 'become' even mean in this context? 

It certainly implied change, since you couldn't become without being something else before, so in a sense that was a progression. 

Mimihagi had also said 'linear.' And that suggested movement from one thing to another in a straight line. The obvious answer was shikai to bankai. A to B, one to the next, linear progression. Was that the criticism? Not so much the relationship but the assumption that these two things were simply different points on the same scale. 

Jūshirō had always assumed they were. Power levels increased from sealed zanpakutō to shikai to bankai, thus it seemed logical to assume they were different degrees of the same thing. But what if they weren't. What if the analogy he was looking for was less acorn into oak tree and more caterpillar into butterfly. 

That would indeed shed an entirely different light on exactly what bankai might be.

No one in Jūshirō's circle had gained bankai while he knew them, so he couldn't say for certain that they did change, but that would explain Onigawa's reaction when she walked into the cottage this evening. When she'd sensed Sōsuke's reiatsu, she'd immediately thought it was Jūshirō's. Now, why would she do that if she hadn't been expecting it to change in some way.

Jūshirō's heart fell. It looked like faking bankai wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

#

The following morning, Jūshirō was woefully late waking up and neither Sōsuke nor Onigawa were still at the cottage when he did, putting paid to his idea of immediately sending a note to Shunsui. Blaming Onigawa's snoring and too many hours lying awake worrying, he hurriedly helped himself to breakfast and copious amounts of strong tea before washing up and following Onigawa out to the dome.

Snow was falling thick and fast, and he had to use the familiar dark burn of his old teacher's reiatsu to guide him to the right place to get in. She was already set up just outside, seated tailor style on the ground surrounded by a circle of bare earth that steamed in the frigid morning air. 

As Jūshirō arrived, she broke her concentration enough to glance up at him. "Know what you're doing today?" she asked.

If only. Jūshirō shrugged. "More of the same, probably," he lied. In truth, the first thing he needed to do was have a proper conversation with Mimihagi and Sōgyo no Kotowari, and that would mean sitting jinzen. 

Onigawa nodded shortly and pressed her hands together, redoubling her focus. "So long as I know," she said. 

Seeing the effort she was preparing to put in, Jūshirō considered saying something. It was only jinzen after all, maybe he should tell her that she didn't have to try quite so hard? Then again, it had started out as 'only jinzen' yesterday and look what had happened there. No, from what little Jūshirō knew about these barriers, they were far easier to maintain than they were to re-establish. And if it was too much for her, surely Onigawa would say something.

Inside of the dome was significantly warmer than outside. Gratefully, Jūshirō reduced the flow of reiatsu he'd been using to keep himself from getting too cold and redirected it towards his swords. His backside had only just touched the ground before he was plummeting inwards, landing with a splash in the ocean. 

Today the sky was grey from horizon to horizon, full cloud cover with not a break in sight, and around him the water glowed an almost bottle green, each wave topped with spumes of white. It was also as eerily empty as it had been the night before.

Burying a flash of worry, Jūshirō floated for a while, giving Sōgyo no Kotowari a chance to join him, but with every moment that passed with no sign of the spirits, his fears grew. Mimihagi had said they were alright after the storm but what if they weren't. What if yesterday had been too much? What if he'd damaged them?

_They are very deep._

Jūshirō startled, for some reason not expecting Mimihagi to volunteer anything, though why that should be, he couldn't say. "Deep?" he pressed, because that could mean anything. Hiding. Scared. Hurt.

_They are still functional, but…_ There was a hiatus, a gap in the narrative like Mimihagi was trying to work out how to convey the information. Then, _Here._

Jūshirō's world bent around him, then turned in on itself and suddenly he could sense Sōgyo no Kotowari, as deep as Mimihagi had said, resting on the ocean floor, curled together. Or, more accurately, one curled around the other.

_The part that contains me seeks to shelter the not me from further harm._

The part of Sōgyo no Kotowari that contained Mimihagi.

Jūshirō had known on an academic level that the connection between Mimihagi and himself was close, after all, it was only Mimihagi's presence inside his physical body that kept him alive. But he hadn't understood until this moment precisely what that meant on a spiritual level. And it came as a shock. This wasn't so much Onigawa's godlet living inside him, this was…

_Symbiosis._

Parasitism?

_If you will, though I do not seek to harm any part of you._

But seeking to harm was not the same as accidently doing harm, and what Jūshirō was feeling from Sōgyo no Kotowari was definitely harm. From here, they felt stretched thin, pulled to breaking point, strained almost beyond return.

_Which is why we must be more a part of them._

That was unacceptable!

"Take me to them," Jūshirō demanded, true anger at the interloper starting to rise in his throat.

_This is your world as much as it is theirs. Take yourself,_ Mimihagi replied, its tone one of cool disinterest.

Jūshirō clamped his teeth shut around a scream of frustration. For all that Mimihagi and he had an arrangement, this torn off piece of the Soul King was entirely capable of surviving on its own. Unlike Jūshirō, who would definitely die if Mimihagi decided to withdraw from him. And if he died, so would Sōgyo no Kotowari.

"Please," he tried. "They're a very long way down and it will take almost all of my strength to get there."

_Then perhaps you need to get stronger._

Put like that, it sounded like a test and, since it didn't look like Mimihagi was going to cooperate, there wasn't much choice anyway. Taking a massive gulp of air, Jūshirō dove beneath the waves, arms angling his body downwards as his feet kicked, arrowing him down as fast and powerfully as he could. 

As he swam, he sent tendrils of reiatsu out in front of him, trying to make contact with Sōgyo no Kotowari. Their response was sluggish, in truth hardly there at all, but it wasn't nothing. 

Jūshirō redoubled his efforts, ignoring the burning in his arms, in his lungs. He was going to have to breathe sooner or later and, though he knew he couldn't drown here - Mimihagi was right about this being his world - it was definitely not going to be fun. 

He hung on for as long as he could, until dark spots speckled his sight, then took a deep breath through his nose. For a long second it felt like he truly was drowning, water flooded his lungs which cramped in a way that was terrifyingly familiar, and then the feeling was gone, and Jūshirō simply wasn't breathing at all. 

That was… somewhat unexpected, though less so when he felt his hair snag on something around his neck. Gills. That was an interesting way to manifest a metaphor, though it would have been more logical to have them between his ribs.

He kept swimming, the water around him growing colder and darker as they descended. Adding more reiatsu, Jūshirō managed to light his way a little, but gave it up when all he could see was water. It was better to focus on his target, so deep beneath him. 

Further, and further again. His ears popped and body began to feel stiff, his hands cramping. More reiatsu helped for a while, but fairly soon he was spending more than was going to be sustainable. And still Sōgyo no Kotowari seemed no closer.

Was he doing this wrong? Should he have found a different route, another way?

_You have no patience. Children rarely do._

Now that was just rude. Though, Jūshirō had to concede, probably merited. He could be impatient, overly eager to see results after limited amounts of effort. Honestly, he only had to consider how much work he'd put into bankai to admit to that. Genryūsai-sensei used to say that it took a minimum of ten years training to achieve it, and Jūshirō had thought he could come out here and get there in a month. Or at least close enough to fake it. 

He'd been fooling himself. And now he was even worse off, having discovered that it wasn't simply a matter of increasing power levels and coming up with some new skill. He needed to change. How in all of Seireitei was he going to manage that.

A sharp pain stabbed through his head. Jūshirō tried to blink it away, pushing out more reiatsu again to compensate for the growing pressure of the water. He was getting tired, the energy from Sōsuke's rice porridge being used up too fast.

If he failed to reach Sōgyo no Kotowari, would he lose them?

That thought shot a bolt of fear through him and redoubled his efforts, stroking hard as he kept heading downward. It was pitch black now, not even his arms were visible in front of him. Only his awareness of Sōgyo no Kotowari was keeping him oriented in the right direction. Without them, he'd be lost, with no up or down, no tether to reality.

More time passed. Jūshirō kept swimming, stroke after stroke, his arms moved, his legs kicked, and so he progressed towards his goal.

Though Sōgyo no Kotowari wasn't the goal in and of themselves. Helping them was. And what exactly was Jūshirō supposed to do when he did reach them? If Mimihagi had taken them over…

_As you have been taken over?_

Yes, that was exactly what Jūshirō feared. It was bad enough that his physical body was reliant on Mimihagi, without his soul being as well. If they were so entangled then how would he ever manage to extract them?

In some part of his mind, he'd always assumed that Unohana would find a cure. A way to fix his lungs when he and Mimihagi finally parted ways. He'd been holding on to that, banking on it, rather than hoping. Getting to the Royal Realm and allowing Mimihagi to return to where it belonged would come after that, when his lungs were fixed enough to support life.

But his soul. If Mimihagi was in his soul, part of his zanpakutō, then that changed things. That changed him-

Oh.

He stopped swimming, arms and legs going slack in the water, only the current giving any part of him a semblance of life. He felt gutted, ripped apart, as stretched out as Sōgyo no Kotowari. 

Was this what Mimihagi had meant by ' _becoming'_?

'You need us to merge.' Jūshirō sent the assertion out into the darkness, and for a long moment thought Mimihagi was going to deny him a reply. And then,

_The possibility is there, but this is not something that can be taken by force._

In other words, Jūshirō had to offer it. He had to voluntarily open up his soul and let Mimihagi enter.

'Will you ever be able to leave?'

Again a long moment of silence. Jūshirō reached out for Sogyo no Kotowari and discovered he'd lost the connection. He was alone in the darkness. Isolated. If this came down to a decision, he was going to have to make it for both of them. 

_Finding the edges between us would be difficult._

In other words, if they did this then Jūshirō would have to die for Mimihagi to return to the Soul King. 

Would that be such a bad thing? Honestly, a large part of Jūshirō had always expected their run on the Royal Realm to be a suicide mission anyway, no matter how much he argued with Shunsui that it wasn't so. But still, to know that it might be possible to manage it without dying some day if he remained in his current state, made giving it up all the more difficult.

Shunsui would be furious. He'd tell Jūshirō not to be an idiot. That they'd find another way to get to the Royal Realm, one that didn't require bankai. And if Jūshirō tried to argue, he'd try to fight his way in alone, because he was stubborn that way.

Jūshirō wouldn't let him, even if it meant not telling him. If necessary he'd just keep the whole thing a secret until they reached the Royal Realm. By then it would be too late and Shunsui would simply have to accept the inevitable.

Even so, Jūshirō didn't want to do it. He loved his life. Loved Shunsui, the children, his work. There was so much more he had to learn. Like humans! They were so fascinating. How could he possibly give up his life when he'd yet to learn how humans truly lived!

'Would you mind if you didn't get to go back for a while?' he asked. The question was tentative, quiet in the blackness. When Mimihagi didn't answer immediately, Jūshirō added, 'Unless you have to go, of course.'

_This is something that cannot be known._

Of course it was. The one blind spot in Mimihagi's omniscience was any event that involved itself or the Soul King. 

But, considering Mimihagi had been separated from the Soul King for as long as Rukongai had existed, it seemed unlikely that anything was going to happen that would make its return urgent. If Jūshirō played his cards right, he could be as old as Genryūsai-sensei before they needed to part ways. 

'Then, how about we come to an arrangement," Jūshirō suggested, feeling much more confident. 'I get to decide when you go back, and in return, I open up my soul for this 'becoming'.' 

A giant eye suddenly filled the darkness as Mimihagi's presence flared into being. Jūshirō flailed, the movement sending him spinning uncontrollably through the water, a single-celled creature under the eye of a god.

_That would be acceptable._

Somehow Jūshirō had expected more. Demands maybe, or at least an argument. 'Good. Good. So… how do we go about this?'

The hesitation this time was so long that if it hadn't been for the giant eye hovering right next to him, Jūshirō might have thought that Mimihagi had left. Eventually though, more knowledge landed in his mind.

_Unknown. Change is not an innate part of me. I simply know that it must be done._

Well, great. That wasn't helpful in the slightest. 'Then let's start by getting me down to Sōgyo no Kotowari and go from there.'

It was kind of like being swatted by a massive hand. Something smacked into Jūshirō's back and suddenly he was shooting forward at a hundred times the speed he'd been going before. 

Fast. Too fast! 

Crippling pain spiked through Jūshirō's body as the pressure around him increased exponentially, crushing his body and squashing his reiatsu down denser and denser. He tried upping the levels, forcing it out with the kind of explosion that would have demolished towers in Seireitei. Here, it did nothing. 

Twisting amidst a storm of currents, there was nothing Jūshirō could do. He was going to end up crushed, obliterated within his own soul. Destroyed because he wasn't strong enough to fathom the furthest reaches of his inner world.

Why would this happen? Why was there such an expanse inside of him? Surely, if this was his inner world, then he should be able to touch every part of it. Sōgyo no Kotowari could. They were down there right now.

Except Sōgyo no Kotowari had a part of Mimihagi inside them.

Fighting to control his limbs, Jūshirō drew his sword and holding in numb fingers, drove it into his own belly, forcing the blade up and down, opening himself up. Ripping a hole in his own self.

'Now! I have made room. Enter me now!'

Mimihagi flooded in, blackness like oil that poured from the eye and sped through the water. Head back and teeth gritted, Jūshirō held his own guts open to provide a way, feeling Mimihagi's power infuse his body, his soul, his very being, merging with all that made him him, until there was no difference between them.

_We are._

The voices sounded in their brain, multitudinous. Jūshirō, Mimihagi, Sōgyo no Kotowari, and a million more besides. 

Because Mimihagi might be severed from the Soul King but they were still made of the same stuff. Could still feel the passage of souls through the infinite. This here was the eye of the storm. This, the power they'd been looking for.

And Sōgyo no Kotowari would let them control it. The Law of Pisces; the circular flow of all things; life and death, the body and spirit, love and loss; no end or beginning. The infinity of existence. The meaning of all things.

If they reached out, they would be able to see… If he reached out, he would… If he reached out… 

Omniscience slipped from his grasp. 

"No!" With a desolate cry, Jūshirō opened his eyes to warm blue skies and gentle waves, and Sōgyo no Kotowari cradling him between them. Knowledge fled, withdrawing like a receding tide and a wordless sob burst from Jūshirō's throat. Mourning, he turned his face away, hiding it in scaley shoulders that held him close and pushed the terrible aching emptiness away.

Mimihagi was gone. Subsumed. So deep inside him that its voice was silenced. And with it had gone virtually everything it knew.

Jūshirō hadn't known. Hadn't realised what it would be like to change so profoundly. To lose something he had grasped for only a second, and yet owned for a million years. To have the possibility of more ripped from his grasp.

"But we are still here," Sōgyo no Kotowari said. "You are not alone. Never alone."

It was true. Cold comfort in this moment, but enough to keep Jūshirō there, keep him caring. "I know," he croaked. "Thank you. I…" He didn't know what else to say. Losing Mimihagi, losing what he had seen, what he'd been so close to becoming… something.

Was that how it felt to be the Soul King? 

Jūshirō couldn't even begin to guess. He had no idea exactly what the Soul King was or where its power came from. And being Mimihagi for that split second hadn't given him any answers either. 

Not to that question, anyway. There'd been others, like why a true bankai wasn't possible for him - it was Mimihagi's presence, and merging in this way wouldn't help the situation. Thankfully, the Jūshirō now knew exactly how to get around it. That much had remained behind, along with the prayers and rituals he would need to separate himself and Mimihagi when the time came.

Pulling himself back together, Jūshirō raised his head and swallowed down everything he'd lost. He'd made his decision, made his choice. One day, he would return to Mimihagi's temple and perform the ritual, but until then, he had a life to lead and a bankai to simulate. 

Otherwise, he'd never be able to look Shunsui in the eye again.

#

When Jūshirō finally made it out of the dome, exhausted and bloodied, night had fallen. He paused for a moment, drinking in the deep blue-black sky dusted with stars. The air out here was still, cold and clear. So peaceful. It felt like another world compared to storm wracked one he'd just left.

Blood dripped from his wrists, freezing before it hit the ground. He clutched at them, grimacing, and wishing he had the skills necessary to heal them. Surface damage like Sōsuke had suffered was easy. This was deeper and more complex as burns often were. They have to wait until he could find Onigawa - who appeared to have left already.

Jūshirō turned in a small circle, trying to work out where exactly she'd been sitting. Either he'd been training for much longer than he thought or it must have snowed hard today. Drifts had piled up around the barrier and stretched out into the night, their weird shapes and shadows made the landscape look strange, ethereal, like another ocean, a mirror to the one inside him, though this one lay unmoving beneath a frigid sky. 

He was just considering setting off back to the cottage when a nearby drift suddenly erupted, sending an avalanche of snow down its side and a monster emerged, covered in white lumps and waving tentacles at him. "Oi!" it yelled with Onigawa's voice, "Don't just stand there, give me a hand!"

Jūshirō lunged to help his old teacher, who was apparently very much still present. She emerged from the drift looking more snowman than human with white coating every inch of her, iced onto her clothes, hair and lashes. And she didn't look well. Her eyes were like dead coals they were sunk so deep into her head and the hand Jūshirō held was more ice than flesh.

"Sensei, you're freezing!" he said, grabbing for her other hand and trying to rub some warmth into them. 

She snatched them back. "You're not wrong, but I'm not frost-rotted yet either."

"I don't know how not," Jūshirō said, supporting her as she struggled to get her legs free of the drift. Now some of the snow had shifted, he could see that she'd been sat inside a small shelter. Sōsuke must have built it for her. Such a considerate boy. 

Onigawa snorted and shook herself, sending snow flying like a mini blizzard into the air. "There's a trick to it. Think I managed to survive all these winters out here without learning the knack? I'd've been dead within a decade if I hadn't." She paused, glaring at his injured wrists where Sōgyo no Kotowari's lightning had struck a little too close to home. "And the first rule is never going out with an uncovered wound! Are you trying to end up dead?" 

Before he could stop her, ice-cold hands wrapped around the burns and a clever little healing kidō wormed its way in, soothing and mending the injured flesh. It felt weaker than her usual ones though and the kidō stuttered, like a candle on the verge of going out. 

Onigawa was exhausted, probably on the verge of collapse. She needed food and rest in that order and quickly. 

Jūshirō considered the snow fields between them and the cottage. There was no way Onigawa was going to be able to support herself across them and it was going to be far too deep to plough through. Turning his back on her, he crouched down a little, held his newly healed hands out behind him and said, "Climb on. I'll carry you back."

For a moment, he thought pride was going to win out over practicality, then he heard a sigh and then she was there, arms around his neck, knees clamped tight at his waist, hardly any weight at all really, and so so cold. Instinctively, Jūshirō let his reiatsu expand to cover her, help warm her up. 

Immediately her hands tightened on his collar and she said, "Damn it, boy, you actually managed it?"

He'd been right. Bankai did change your reiatsu signature. He shrugged and set off, using reiatsu to walk atop the snow, too tired himself to even attempt to shunpo. "I told you I was almost there, sensei. You just needed to have a little faith."

"Faith be damned," she replied. "Hard work's what it takes and you were always one to skate by on goodwill and a sweet smile." 

She knew them both so well. Jūshirō chuckled. "It made a good counterpoint to Shunsui's roguish good looks and charisma, but it must have been good for something, sensei, since as you can see, I have bankai."

"That's the truth, and there's no faking something like that." Onigawa's breath was scalding hot across his neck. He was starting to chill down himself, which wasn't a good sign. Jūshirō put on a spurt of speed.

The inside of the cottage felt like a furnace when they walked in. And it smelled heavenly. Jūshirō's stomach started rumbling immediately. Sōsuke stood by the fire, stirring a pot, and the table was already laid. 

As Onigawa stumbled for her sleeping mat and dry clothing, Jūshirō made it as far as the mat beside the irori and sank to the floor, his body telling him in no uncertain terms that it was time he took a break. Honestly, if he wasn't so hungry, he'd have skipped dinner and just fallen asleep where he sat.

That was until Onigawa and Sōsuke started fighting again. Only verbally, but unpleasant enough that Jūshirō suspected it wouldn't take much for it to escalate. And going by the argument, Onigawa had been hitting the boy again. 

Jūshirō sagged. This couldn't be allowed to go on. The snow had stopped, there was no reason to wait. If he sent Sōsuke with a message tomorrow, Shunsui could be here within a week. By then, Jūshirō should have the last of the kinks worked out of his bankai and they could escort Sōsuke and Onigawa back to Seireitei together. He lifted his head and gave the pair what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

"Enough, please. This has to stop. In fact, now the snow seems to have finally ended, perhaps there’s a solution. Sōsuke, could I have use of your paper and inks?"


End file.
